Per Ardua
by Fistful of Gamma Rays
Summary: The Reapers are coming and no prayers or pleas or weapons will turn them aside. The galaxy will have to fight them off the old-fashioned way. ME3 without the Crucible.
1. Chapter 1

Palaven's sun blazed in the far left corner of the window, one slightly brighter star among many at this distance. Its planets would not be visible for several hours. Still, Garrus felt a knot of anticipation in the pit of his stomach as he watched its approach.

Absently, one hand drifted to the hinge of his jaw, cautiously prodding the rough bands of scar tissue. His reflection in the window grimaced, and with an effort of will, he returned his hand to his side. Still sore.

He had thought long and hard over whether to seek out a specialist to repair the cosmetic damage. It would have made things easier, avoided awkward questions. In the end, he had not, one of only a few recent decisions he had not shared with Shepard. Erasing the scars felt dishonest. He had changed since he had last visited Palaven, taken his chances and made his choices, and it seemed wrong that he could erase their consequences with a little pain, a little time, and a fair number of credits.

He shifted his weight, and the light in the cabin fell over the ruin the scars had made of his colony markings.

_Then again,_ he thought wryly, _maybe that's a bit too honest. _

In his head, he could hear his father's voice: _"Do it right, or don't do it at all."_ In a way, this whole trip hinged on how much his father trusted in his honesty. No sense in pulling the punches. His father was a dedicated officer with a fine eye for detail. He would at least give the evidence serious consideration and evaluate it fairly. That would have to be enough.

Absently, he tapped a finger against the table he leaned on. _Of course, all this speculation assumes the old man is still speaking with me._ They hadn't parted on good terms. Garrus had never bothered to check – hadn't wanted to know – but he half-suspected he might have been disowned sometime in the past two years.

His father was his best bet for getting the information where it needed to go. There were other channels he could go through if he had to. One or two of his old COs might be willing to hear him out, and if necessary, he could enlist Liara's assistance and anonymously ensure that the data crossed enough desks to get noticed. But the first of those options relied on whatever hazy good memories his former superiors might have of him and the second on sheer, dumb luck. Neither guaranteed that the information would ultimately trickle into a place where it could do some good. Of the options available, his father was the only one with both a reason to listen to him and the right connections to do something about it. Failure was not an option. The mission in the Bahak system still shot ice down his spine. They had dodged a full scale invasion by a matter of minutes, and he knew every second they had now was borrowed.

Bahak set his thoughts to Shepard, currently en route to Sol system to stand trial. She'd stood arrow-straight when she told the crew she was going back, every inch the Commander. But Garrus knew Shepard, had learned the subtle twists of her expressions, and the pinch of her mouth and stiffness of her shoulders had worried him. Later, over a beer, she'd confessed. _"It's a political game. They don't have enough evidence to do anything but make a lot of noise. It'll be a PR circus. A waste of time when we should be preparing for war."_ Much later, staring up at the blackness of space in the darkness of the cabin's night cycle, he'd heard her voice next to him, thin and hollow.

_ "Three-hundred thousand people, Garrus. An entire system."_

_"It was the only choice you could have made."_

_"I know. But, hell. Three-hundred thousand. I can't even imagine a number that big."_

He'd tightened his arm around her, pulling her back against him, and felt her hand tighten on his in response, but they'd stayed awake in the dark a long time after that. They'd spent the next morning combing through the data they'd collected over the course of the mission, sorting it into an organized narrative and weeding out the parts the Alliance wouldn't want spread around. A copy for everyone on board who might be able to bring it to their government's attention.

Shepard might be temporarily grounded. But her crew would do their best to raise a little political hell in her absence.

He took one last look at the far off star of his home and then headed to his cabin to make his preparations.

* * *

He'd had a hell of a time getting through Cipritine port security. His last set of civvies and the single piece on his person were par for the course for off-duty military. The Mantis and Vindicator in his luggage were less usual. He had the proper permits – the Council's grudging reinstatement of Shepard's Spectre status was at least good for that much – but security had held him up for nearly an hour trying to poke holes in them. He'd sat it out as patiently as he could – back in C-Sec, he'd have been all over a guy trying to bring that kind of heat on station.

_What goes around comes around, I guess._

They'd finally, reluctantly, let him go, and now he made his way though the crowd at the reception lobby, trying to catch a glimpse of Solana. Absently, he noted how strange it was to be in a crowd of mostly turians again. He'd grown used to being taller than everyone else.

A flash of movement caught his eye and he spotted her. She was checking her omni-tool, probably looking for a message from him, and hadn't yet sighted him. His mandibles dipped into a broad grin and he headed her way. He cleared his throat noisily when he got there, startling her out of her messages.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Her head jerked up and her eyes snapped to his, then to the scars across his jaw, and locked back on his eyes.

"Garrus!"

She leapt from the seat, and suddenly they were in a fierce, one-armed embrace. At length, they leaned back, hands still on each others' shoulders, examining each other. He saw her gaze flick again to the right side of his face, but mercifully, she let it lie.

"Is that all you have?" she said, nodding at his scant luggage.

"Yeah. Figured I could pick up most of what I need on planet."

"All right. Let's go – I reserved us a taxi." Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "Spirits, Garrus, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise."

They made their way out the door to the taxis. Cipritine's summer heat and glare hit like a hammer, and Garrus spent a moment in wistful reminiscence of the comfortable warmth and soft, infrared glow of the Normandy's main battery. Their cab, thankfully, was queued only a little ways from the main door. They made their way over in companionable silence, and both breathed a sigh of relief as the taxi lifted off and the climate-control kicked on. The quiet lasted while they wended their way out of the city traffic and onto the route leading to Faxis. Then, Solana took a breath and turned to him, letting the autopilot take over.

"I see why you stopped syncing up the video chat. Garrus, what happened?"

Inwardly, he flinched. _I caught a rocket with my teeth._ "A slight altercation with a gunship," he said instead.

"A gunship," she said flatly. "Are you all right?"

"Still a bit sore. Everything works, though." Quickly, before she could inquire further, he added, "What about you? How are you doing?"

She shrugged, falsely nonchalant. "I was nominated for Pilot First Class a few weeks ago."

A flash of pride went through him at that. "Congratulations."

She waved a hand dismissively, but cocked her head proudly all the same. "It's not a sure thing yet. The merit committee is meeting this week." She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts. "Dad is still doing work for Intelligence, but most of it's administrative now, since he spends most of his time looking after Mom. Mom..." There was another brief silence, and when Solana resumed speaking, the subtones of her voice were flat. "Mom isn't doing well. We had some good luck. Managed to get her into a government-funded trial, all expenses waived." She took a breath. "It seems to be helping some. She's lucid more of the time, at least, but it's hard to watch. She can't walk anymore, and her fine motor control is gone. She's starting to have trouble speaking now." A beat of silence. "What was so important that you couldn't come back here?"

"I'm sorry, Sol. It's classified."

"The hell it is. You've been doing mercenary work for the past couple of years."

"I served with Shepard for the past six months. I can tell you that much."

"Shepard. The one who's working for that terrorist group?"

"It's not that simple."

Her mandibles dipped once, then returned to their tightly closed position.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Garrus."

"I promise, I'll tell you everything when I can."

Solana threw him a quick glance, expression momentarily relaxing, before returning to its tense mien. "I'll hold you to that."

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

* * *

The taxi dropped them in front of the house they'd grown up in. It looked smaller. Drearier. A light shone from the room overlooking traffic, where his father's study lay. There was little to tell it had been almost three years since his last visit.

Solana opened the door for them – his old passcode no longer worked. Inside, the house was dimly lit and quiet. A door slid open down the hallway, the noise startlingly loud, and his father walked out to greet them.

"Take that thing off inside the house." His father pointed at his head, looking almost startled, as if the order had been purely reflexive. Garrus removed the targeting visor and set it on the low counter leading to the kitchen. Blinked, momentarily disoriented without the familiar blue glow of the HUD.

"Sorry. Forgot it was there."

His father said nothing, examining him. Like Solana, his eyes lingered on the scarred side of Garrus' face, but he made no comment. Garrus held himself still, suddenly feeling like he was fifteen and on his first day of boot camp all over again. Finally, to his surprise, his father clapped him stiffly on the shoulder.

"Go and see your mother. We'll talk after."

* * *

Garrus tapped at the door to his parents' chamber and slid it open on a faint, muffled noise of assent from within. His mother sat in a chair by the window, a holoscreen open in front of her. Her head turned at his entrance and her mandibles shakily dipped into a warm smile, and for one heart-stopping moment, she looked as he remembered her. Then she opened her mouth to speak, and to his horror, made a choked, guttural noise as her tongue refused to cooperate. He hastened over to her and embraced her.

"Mom. I missed you."

"Garrus," she finally got out. The subtones behind her voice were all wrong, and he clamped down hard on the instinctive urge to stiffen at the distressing noise. Her hands shook badly on his back as she returned the embrace. Finally, they leaned back and Garrus dragged over the room's other chair to sit next to her in the warm patch of late afternoon sun.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Better than I could have expected," she said bluntly. The harder consonants stuck in her throat, leaving her choking helplessly for a moment before they tumbled out explosively. "Most days I know who I'm speaking to and what year it is."

He was stung at the bitterness there and tried not to let it show on his face, but must not have completely succeeded.

"Garrus," she said softly, "it's better than I could have hoped for." She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. "A year ago, I didn't think I'd be able to talk by now. It is enough."

A cold chill settled into him at that, that he might have come home to find her dead already in all the ways that mattered, a husk of her former self, unable to speak or recognize him. _Damn it, Sol is right._

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have come back sooner."

His mother gave him a long, thoughtful look before replying. "I don't know what you've been doing. I won't ask. If you'd wanted us to know, you'd have told us, and I have too little time left to waste it stirring up trouble. But I've known you all your life. If you stayed away, you had your reasons."

Garrus glanced away. _My own damn fault for cutting all contact. _"The mission had to take priority," he said. "But if I'd known earlier it was this bad, I'd have come back."

"You're here now," she returned bluntly. "That's what I care about." She paused and gestured shakily at a cabinet under the window. "There's a parthium set in there. Bring it over and play a game with me."

He found the set at the front of the cabinet and dragged over a table to set it up.

"Your father and I usually play a game after dinner. I know all his moves, though. It's getting stale."

"You probably won't find me much of a challenge. It's been years since I played."

She made a disparaging clicking noise. "We'll see. I still remember you trouncing your father after boot camp."

That brought a smile to his face. "I'll try to live up to my reputation."

"See that you do."

They passed almost an hour on the game. Garrus found the experience surreal. The conversation was light, focused on the game, deliberately ignoring the weightier topics that hung over their heads. They'd played hundreds of games like this during the rainy season when he was a child. The familiarity was almost comfortable, but the small differences felt all the more jarring for it. He had to make his mother's moves for her, as she could no longer guide the pieces accurately. Several times in the conversation, she seemed to lose her train of thought mid-sentence. She covered well for it, and he didn't draw attention to it. He won by a narrow margin, gaining control of her territory at the cost of most of his officer pieces. A tenuous victory on a real battlefield, but a solid one in parthium. It was soured by the suspicion that she could no longer play at her best.

"Well-played," she said, eying him thoughtfully as he swept the pieces into their compartments.

"You should play a game with your father after. He's such a cautious player – you might be able to surprise him with an advance like that."

Garrus stiffened. "I'm, ah, not too sure how that would go. I haven't spoken with him yet."

"Ah," she said quietly. "Go easy on him, then. It's been a hard few years. He'd like to make amends with you, I think."

He digested that in silence. He'd been at odds with his father for close to two decades. He had a hard time imagining an amicable relationship between them.

_This might be the last chance I have, though._

"I'll try," he said.

* * *

He found his father in his study, watching traffic out the broad window over his desk. A neat pile of datapads sat on each side of the desk, and the terminal screen blinked a silent message alert.

"Garrus."

"Dad."

He sat in the room's other chair, and his father turned to face him. For a long moment, they stayed still, each measuring the other. His father looked older than he remembered. He still sat with military straightness, but something in his face, at the edges of his eyes and the set of his jaw, looked weary. At last, he broke the stand-off.

"I'm sorry I left the way I did."

Something in his father's expression shifted.

"But not sorry you left."

"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you and Sol and Mom. I'm not sorry I quit C-Sec," he returned matter-of-factly.

His father eyed the scars, and his voice was bitter when he replied.

"And where have you been for the last two years, Garrus? Doing mercenary work? You'd rather be a thug for hire than contribute to society?"

The words brought a sharp, angry sting with them, but Garrus did not rise to the bait. It was a great deal easier than it would have been two years ago.

"For the last six months, I've been working with Shepard."

His father's expression twisted, like he had bitten into something rotten.

"Shepard. The Spectre."

"Yes."

All the fight seemed to deflate out of his father at that.

"I shouldn't have bothered talking you out of Spectre candidacy all those years ago. It was a waste of breath." There was a bitterness to the words, but the undertones of them sounded resigned.

"It would have made things a lot simpler," remarked Garrus wryly, not without a little resignation of his own.

There was a small silence, each of them gathering their thoughts. Evening was fast approaching, and the window threw long pillars of light across the room, casting heavy shadows behind them.

"We thought you might be dead," his father said quietly from within one of the shadows. "After a year had passed and we didn't hear from you."

Garrus let out a slow breath. He had heard an angrier version of the same from Solana when he had first gotten back in touch with her after Omega. In the middle of the excitement and angry questions, it had sounded like hyperbole. His father's quiet, weary admission had an altogether different level of impact.

"I'm sorry," was all he could find to say.

His father continued. "I regretted very much that things between us ended like that."

Garrus felt his mandibles hitch. He leaned forward in his chair and met his father's eyes across the darkening room.

"A fresh start, then?"

"Yes," his father murmured, "a fresh start." He reached across the empty space between them, set his hand on Garrus' shoulder, and squeezed. "It is _good_ to see you again, son." After a moment, he settled back into his chair and pinned Garrus with his eyes. "Now, why have you come back?"

Garrus laughed, chagrined. "Once a cop, always a cop." The amusement dropped from him quickly. "Shepard warned the Council about the Reapers during the mess with Saren."

His father eyed him sceptically. "I remember it hearing about it. It sounded insane."

"The Council agrees with you. Perhaps understandably, they chose to blame the Citadel attack on Saren and the geth, rather than sentient, mind-controlling spaceships. Shepard is right, though. The Reapers are a genuine threat. They're coming and we need to be ready."

"Garrus..." his father began to say. He overrode it.

"So when Shepard asked for my help on another lead on them, I agreed. This time, we learned our lesson. We recorded everything we saw, documented everything we did." He fixed his father's eyes firmly. "We have evidence." He fished the OSD out of his pocket and set it squarely on the table between them.

* * *

Garrus slid the door of the room shut and gratefully sank into a chair. He tipped his head back (he did not miss the Normandy's human-designed furniture), and breathed a long breath out through his teeth. The day had taken its toll on him. He closed his eyes for a moment, marshaling his thoughts, and then checked his omni-tool for the time.

_Hell with it. Close enough._

He opened up the connection, and a moment later, EDI's familiar voice answered the call.

"Hello, Officer Vakarian."

"Hello, EDI. Is the Commander available?"

"Commander Shepard is in the mess hall. I will inform her that you have called."

"Thanks."

A moment later, the omni-tool's display opened up to show the familiar clutter of Shepard's quarters, and then Shepard herself, sitting down to the terminal, plate in hand. The weight under his keel bone lightened to see her. The attraction between them was too new and tentative to put a name to yet, but their partnership had long ago become a bright, fixed point in his life.

"Garrus." Her strange, mobile face opened, eyes crinkling and mouth widening into a smile. He responded in kind, mandibles flaring gently open, eyes hooded.

"Miss me already?"

"You know it, you smug bastard."

His grin flared a bit wider, and her smile did the same. More seriously then, he asked, "What's your situation now?"

The smile faded off her face. He thought the straight set of her mouth and the slump of her shoulders looked tired.

"ETA with our Alliance escort is in a couple of hours. I expect the brass will keep this as low-profile as possible, though a ship like the Normandy makes it difficult."

"The crew?"

"We dropped Smith, Walters, Chen, and Garcia off at the Citadel. Can't fault them for it. The rest are coming along for the ride."

"They're your crew, Shepard. After the Collectors, the Alliance is a walk in the park."

She snorted. "I'd almost rather deal with the Collectors again than politics."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Politics. Do you think there's more to this than meets the eye?"

Shepard groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "God, I hope not. Talking to Hackett, I think they want Bahak swept under the rug as quickly as possible. It sounds like the military, at least, is convinced that the Reapers are coming, but I don't know what's changed since I... left."

He caught the hesitation, but was unsure what to do about it. Her death made them both uncomfortable, and she avoided the topic as much as possible.

"Say the word, Shepard, and we'll get you out of there."

She laughed at that, though they both knew the offer was half-serious. "Just don't start the war without me, Vakarian."

"I'll save a few Reapers for you."

"Thanks." The corner of her mouth quirked up, just a little bit. "How are things going with you? Seen your family?"

Garrus considered. "Yes. Strange to be back – it's gone better than I expected, though." He thought of his mother's failing health, and the tension between himself and Solana, but kept it quiet. Shepard didn't need to hear about any more problems at the moment. "My father and I seem to have reached a truce."

A brilliant flash of teeth in her smile. "Good. I'm glad."

He dropped his jaw a little, relaxing. "It surprised me. I thought I might end up disowned this time." He hesitated, then continued. "I gave him the files."

Shepard watched him thoughtfully. "Do you think he'll believe it?"

He tilted his head, certain. "He's always let the evidence speak for itself. He won't stop now. The question will be what kind of weight we can bring to bear on it."

Shepard nodded decisively. "Good. I'll work on my end as well. Between us, maybe we can get the politicians working for us for a change."

"Only some of the politicians, some of the time, and not in public."

That pulled a grin out of Shepard. "Always such an optimist, Vakarian. What would I do without you?"

"You'd manage..."

"...But not so stylishly, I know."

They both grinned in their way at the old joke, and then Shepard's smile tempered to something fonder.

"Write me when you can. Don't know if they'll let me read it, and I probably won't be allowed to reply, but I'll miss talking with you."

"Just talking with me?" he leered. He wasn't sure how well that translated across species lines, but Shepard, spirits smile on her, knew him well, and sent back a smirk of her own.

"I'll miss your painstakingly calibrated guns too."

"So nice to be appreciated."

They talked for a while after that of small, comfortable things. She asked about Palaven, and he told her about its heat and glare, the ancient, severe architecture of Old Cipritine, and the thick, humid forest at its borders. He asked where she had grown up.

"Spacer, born and raised," she laughed.

"You don't know what you're missing then," he replied with a smirk. "Sometime when this is all over, we'll take a vacation somewhere nice and rustic and you can experience nature up close and personal."

"I've been on enough groundside ops to know that's not as nice an offer as it sounds, Garrus."

Finally, she sighed. "I've got to go and make preparations."

"All right," he said quietly. "I'll write you."

She flashed a tired smile. "Looking forward to it."

"See you on the other side, Shepard."

"You too, Garrus."

The comm channel closed, and he was left alone in the darkened room.

* * *

Savian Vakarian considered the files his son had given him. Night had long since fallen, and he had finished what work he had left. There was no further excuse to delay.

With a sigh, he levered himself to his feet and padded through the dark house toward the kitchen. A light was on in Garrus' room and he could her the quiet murmur of conversation, but nothing distinct. He waved on the kitchen light, and poured himself a half-glass of the good liquor. A glow to his side caught his eye.

Garrus' visor.

Idly, he picked it up. He'd given it to Garrus on his graduation from boot camp and induction to full citizenship. It had seen a lot of action since. The back hook was scratched and bent into place, and there was a hint of scorching on the corner over the eye. His fingers caught at something on the inside, and he turned it over.

Names. Scratched into the inner surface of the visor in Garrus' precise handwriting. He didn't recognize any of them. Several human, a few turian. Grundan Krul was almost certainly krogan. The others, he couldn't place with any certainty. He counted ten names, and a last, indistinct blot against the back of the visor. Another name, scored out and then burned. He squinted.

_Saloris? Sidonis?_

With a sigh, he set the visor down, already regretting the trespass. Scooping up the glass, he headed back to the study where the files waited on his terminal. Methodically, he noted the file type and creation date of each item. Fifty-seven files, predominantly written documents, video, and omni-tool sensor readouts, with a smattering of more exotic file types. The earliest had been created over six months ago, the latest only two weeks ago. It matched well with what Garrus had told him, and he felt some comfort in the amount of data and its meticulous organization – it did not look like a hoax, or a delusion.

He opened the first document and began to read. It consisted of a terse report of Shepard's initial contact with Cerberus. He had his doubts – it seemed a convenient excuse that Shepard should have no option but to cooperate with known terrorists. For his son's sake, he reserved judgment, but made a note to check up on Shepard's official status and past politics. The report went on to detail Cerberus' concerns regarding the disappearance of human colonies in the Terminus and a purported connection to the mythical Reapers. It was vague-sounding nonsense (to her credit, the tone of the report indicated that Shepard had thought so also), but it referenced a series of files which proved to be somewhat more specific.

He spent several minutes combing through these. The gist was clear enough, though he'd need to find experts to verify the information. Traces of the violent ends of anteprothean civilizations, rare scraps of late prothean data caches, occasional pieces of technology of unknown provenance, an analysis of the Keepers (which he _knew_ had not been carried out legally). It didn't explicitly point to Reapers, but it did build an unsettling, if circumstantial, case for cataclysmic war every 50,000 years. He failed to see the connection to human troubles in the Terminus.

He returned to the original report and continued to read. It related the events of a mission on Freedom's Progress – uneventful, but worthwhile in terms of intel. He checked; the quarian's data was included in the files and did indeed appear to show Collectors abducting unresisting humans.

Savian leaned back and took a sip of his drink, considering. So far, there was nothing definite to this. Assuming the information was accurate and undoctored, it was disturbing, but not indicative of any immediate threat to the galaxy as a whole. He hesitated. _Garrus wouldn't have come back home just for this._ He picked the next file and read on.

Where the first report had been a pithy thing totaling only a few hundred words, this one easily reached a few thousand. The style was still clipped and military, but the mission was laid out in exacting, blow-by-blow detail. He skimmed it just enough to discern the mission objectives and context, more interested in the video file titled "Horizon" that accompanied it. He would reread the report afterwards for Shepard's interpretation, but was more interested in making his own judgments without any preconceptions.

He tapped the vidlink, and found himself looking across and slightly down at a human woman, presumably Shepard, and a human man. "Looking forward to seeing if you survive!" chirruped a Salarian voice over a comm. Shepard's expression was unreadable behind the mask of her helmet, but her voice conveyed resigned amusement.

"Thanks, Mordin. All right, move out. Massani, take point. Vakarian, get into cover and shadow us, let us know what's coming."

With a slight sense of shock, Savian realized that he was looking through Garrus' eyepiece. The view dipped for a moment as his son nodded in response.

"Understood."

"Yes, ma'am."

The human man, Massani, moved off smoothly, but Shepard hung back for a minute.

"Garrus," she murmured, "are you...?"

At the edge of the video, he saw Garrus' hand raise and heard a slight tapping as he rapped the side of his helmet with the visor.

"We're live, Commander."

Shepard nodded. "Good work." She turned and followed Massani, and then the video turned uneven as Garrus headed for cover and high ground.

As Shepard's team advanced through the quiet settlement, they found bodies. At first, he thought they were corpses, but with a chill, realized that their eyes followed the interlopers as they passed. Paralyzed, not dead.

In one room, they found a pack of husks. They attacked in a swarm, with no real intelligence, and Shepard and Massani tore through them easily while Garrus picked off the stragglers.

"Husks. Like on Eden Prime," said Shepard after it was over.

"No dragon's teeth in sight. Think the Collectors brought them?"

"No other explanation. They're taking the colonists alive, not converting them into husks on the spot. What the hell do they want?"

The question remained unanswered. Savian chewed that over a moment. Husks, with no evidence of geth. Either the Collectors were allied with the geth, or they had another, as of yet unknown, ally in common. It lent considerable weight to the supposed threat.

The next chamber held rows of pods like coffins and a troop of Collectors. Savian paused the video here, as Garrus focused on a Collector through his scope. Few people had ever seen a Collector before, but something about them looked wrong to his eye. They wore no clothing, carried no insignia to display rank. They held their weapons in hand, with no visible means of carrying them otherwise. They moved in orderly enough fashion, but he could discern no attempt at communication between them. Mandibles flexing in thought, he resumed the video. The battle went routinely at first; the Collectors were efficient, but Shepard's team was expert and well-practiced.

Suddenly, the audio went crazy, dropping to a roaring, clipped bass.

**"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL."**

The view slewed and blurred as Garrus whipped his head around to follow the noise. On the far side of the courtyard, one of the Collectors hunched in on itself, its exoskeleton fragmenting to reveal a seething network of cybernetics underneath. With a start, he realized the implications. _They act wrong because they're more like drones than soldiers. Like the husks._ The cybernetics flared, and the Collector stood straight and began to advance on Shepard's position.

**"WE ARE THE HARBINGER OF YOUR PERFECTION."**

"Massani, keep them off our backs. Vakarian, with me. We'll take it out from a distance."

"On it, Commander."

It was smarter and more dangerous than the other Collectors; it cannily anticipated attacks and countered with biotics that none of the others had displayed. Shepard and Garrus poured fire into it until finally, it crumpled and died. At the same time, on the far side of the field, another Collector bent over, exoskeleton cracking.

Massani swore. "It's back Shepard! Your one o'clock!"

"Same strategy as before, gentlemen."

This time, they were expecting it, and the fight went more smoothly. All the Collectors went down and stayed down.

He became aware of the rasping sound of Garrus' even breaths in the sudden absence of gunfire.

"Hell, Shepard. I've heard something like that before."

On the field below, Shepard nodded grimly. "I hear you. Sounded an awful lot like Sovereign."

Sovereign. Saren's ship, that Shepard had believed to be a Reaper.

From there on, the mission only grew more horrific, as Shepard's team fought their way through what could only be described as monsters to reach the artillery controls. When the vid ended, Savian let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held and forcibly unclenched his hands. He downed the rest of the liquor in two long swallows, waiting for the prickling of adrenaline to subside.

_Spirits_. Every turian parent knew their child might face combat someday. It was another thing to watch it happen.

He shut down the terminal and locked the OSD in the wall safe. He would continue tomorrow, with a clearer head.

* * *

Savian woke groggily out of uneasy dreams to the chime of the alarm. Thalia stirred at his side and he turned to face her.

"Good morning."

There was a moment of frightening blankness in her eyes before she replied, stuttering badly. He felt his heart clench in his chest. It was getting worse.

They got up and went through their morning routine, the old motions perfected over years of familiarity slowed and made awkward by Thalia's sickness. This morning, both were silent, each heavy with thought.

"You came back late last night," she said, as he did the fastenings on her shirt.

He hesitated a moment, remembering the weird horror of the mission he'd watched the night before. "Garrus asked me to look over something."

She sent a skeptical look his way, but let it slide. "How did it go with him yesterday?"

He sighed. "We've called a cease-fire for now. I don't know how long it will last."

"You might be surprised. I think he's changed a great deal over the last two years," she said. Savian thought back on the quiet, sober conversation with Garrus the night before, and the visor with the names carved into it.

"Yes," he said, slowly. "He's more deliberate. More patient." He considered the files he had seen last night. "Still damned reckless."

She snorted. "Wouldn't be a Vakarian if he wasn't."

"Hn. Maybe."

They finished their preparations, and he brought breakfast up for the both of them. He spied Garrus on the way, back to him on the porch, busy with something on his omni-tool. Almost, he approached him, but hesitated, then continued, the remainder of the files waiting in the back of his mind like a predator crouched to ambush.

Afterwards, he made his excuses to his superiors for the day, and returned to the study to continue.

After the shock of the Horizon mission, he was better prepared for the rest of the videos. To his great relief, not all were shot from Garrus' visor. At some point, Shepard's helmet had been altered to accommodate a video feed, and the recordings alternated between her view and Garrus' according to who had the best vantage of the battlefield. A few of the missions, to his interest, dealt with Cerberus operations. Shepard's vehement opposition to Cerberus' goals and methods could have been acting for the camera, but the inclusion of these files in the report constituted valuable intel.

The mission to retrieve the supposed Reaper IFF was what began to convince him. The derelict ship matched almost exactly to Sovereign, and its interior was disturbingly alien and organic. The fate of the Cerberus science team was horrific, and the files they'd left behind unsettling. The association of husks and indoctrination with the ship pointed to a hostile power backing Saren and the geth.

The final mission, the jump through the Omega-4 relay to eliminate the Collectors, was the hardest to watch. Shepard's written report was as dry and matter-of-fact as ever when describing the Normandy's suicidal leap through an unmapped mass relay and subsequent crash on the vast Collector base. He wanted, badly, to march out of the room and shake Garrus until his teeth came loose. It froze the blood in his veins that his son had knowingly volunteered for a mission that any rational being must suspect was a one-way ticket, and he felt a white-hot, helpless fury at Shepard, who'd commanded his loyalty so thoroughly. _Reckless. So damned reckless._ With an effort, he forced himself to keep watching, made himself maintain an objective distance. Unlike the other missions, Shepard had recorded the briefing for this one. He watched the grim, angry faces in the war room, listening to Shepard's squad pore over the schematics of the base, deciding on tactics. Two teams to punch through the Collectors' defenses to the central control chamber, one mission specialist to get around security.

"Garrus," said Shepard, her eyes cutting across the room to meet his. "I want you leading the second fireteam."

There was a slight hesitation in Garrus' response, and he was sure something passed between them in that instant. Then his son was nodding, eyes still locked on Shepard's, and he felt a pang of needling pride.

"Of course, Commander."

Two videos this time, one for each team. He watched Shepard's first. It was a brutal, ugly fight from start to finish, relying on the team's ability to hit hard and fast enough to prevent the defenders from pinning them down at a bottleneck. Shepard's people were superb, and she made all the right calls, but it was a harrowing thing to watch. When they finally made it to the control chamber, he paused the video, and hesitated a long moment before opening the file showing the progress of the second team.

He tried to view it clinically, to imagine it as some purely anonymous officer leading a team through a difficult raid. It didn't work, but it was enough to keep the analytical part of his mind in gear. The run was just as much of a bloodbath as Shepard's, and he felt a fierce pulse of pride alongside the worry and horror as Garrus ably pushed his unit through the enemy's ranks.

He switched back to Shepard's video at the control room and almost immediately wished he hadn't. The death of the woman in the pod was horrific, needlessly cruel and chillingly impersonal, and the desperation as Shepard's people wrenched open the pods to release their crewmates was awful to watch. Even worse was the view of millions upon millions of pods lining the chamber like pustules, a genocide in the making.

The squad split again and another grinding, bloody fight followed, made more urgent by the cramped quarters and angry buzz of the seekers swarming outside the barrier. When Shepard's team reached safety and opened the door for the diversion team, his heart seized as Garrus took a hit and stumbled back. There was a sharp intake of breath and the view from Shepard's helmet jolted as she hastened over to him.

"Garrus!"

Savian released the breath he'd been holding as Garrus straightened up, and heard Shepard do the same.

"I'm all right, Shepard. Armor did its job."

Shepard gave a strangled laugh. "Good," she said quietly, then more firmly, "_Good._ Nice work, Vakarian." She clapped him on the shoulder and they moved off together toward where the rest of the group was gathered.

A small team to go ahead, while the main crew held the line. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Savian wondered despairingly if this was something he'd have to get used to, this tendency of his son's to volunteer for missions with suicidal odds. Shepard's team continued on to the Reaper at the heart of the base and laid waste to it with vicious, furious efficiency. The thing was an abomination. Savian did not particularly like or dislike humans as a species, but the slaughter that had been perpetrated upon them to make this monster set his gut roiling with horror and outrage.

When it was over, he closed the terminal and sat still for a long time, mentally exhausted. He no longer doubted that the Reapers were real and a threat – the files were too comprehensive to be faked, and such a hoax would serve little purpose.

What to do about it was the question.

* * *

Much, much later, Savian found Garrus, still seated on the porch, now accompanied by a small stack of datapads. Wordlessly, he drew up a chair beside him and set one of the drinks in his hand down in front of him. Garrus threw him a surprised look, but took it in hand.

"Thanks. What's the occasion?"

"I finished reviewing your files. I could use a drink, and you deserve one."

"Ah." Garrus looked away, uncharacteristically discomfited at the praise. "Think I got all the drinks I deserve when we made port afterward." He took a sip nonetheless.

For a few minutes, they sat without speaking. The silence wasn't entirely comfortable, but neither was it hostile. There were dozens of questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to tell his son, but he found no words for them. In the end, he stuck to the factual, which harbored no pitfalls.

"I made some calls," he said. "Fedorian will see us the day after tomorrow."

* * *

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AN: Many thanks to Cadmos for beta reading this. Any remaining mistakes are my own.


	2. Chapter 2

The two marines who escorted Shepard off the Normandy were unobtrusive and polite, more of an honor guard than a prisoner escort. The discretion – almost certainly Anderson's work – was welcome. She had half-expected to find that viper al-Jilani waiting for her at the airlock. She wondered how much of the Bahak tragedy had made it into the public eye – Hackett's brief communique on the matter had indicated that Alliance brass wanted the matter hushed up, and was looking for a sop to throw the Hegemony, but no one could hide the disappearance of a whole system.

Behind her, the Normandy's crew filed out and were led away by more unassuming, unobtrusive marines. Joker caught her eye as he exited and threw a sloppy salute her way. Shepard paused to return it.

"See you soon, Commander."

Her mouth quirked into a tight smile, some of the tension momentarily gone. "Don't dilly-dally, Moreau. You're holding up the line."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand before continuing on his way, and Shepard felt her jaw tighten as she watched his retreating back. The last time the Alliance had taken the Normandy back in, they'd grounded Joker and splintered her crew. None of them had deserved that repayment for their service, and she'd see that it didn't happen again even if she had to sacrifice her own good name to do it.

Her first stop was a security checkpoint, where two separate scans and a manual pat-down ensured she brought no contraband into the complex. From there, her escort led her to a small, anonymous room, sparsely populated with bland office furniture in Alliance colors. Her guards positioned themselves at the door. Shepard eyed the over-soft couch, and took instead the single, stiff-backed chair in the room, dragging it over to face the door as she waited.

She did not have long to wait. Only a few minutes had passed before Anderson stepped into the room and dismissed the men at the door. Shepard stood from her chair and rendered a sharp salute.

"At ease, Commander."

"Sir."

Anderson studied her face carefully, and seemed to find what he was looking for.

"Admiral Hackett filled me in on what happened in Bahak, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"Yes sir." She spoke slowly and carefully, etching out the bare white bones of the mission. "Admiral Hackett contacted me shortly after we returned from the Omega-4 relay and requested that I extract Dr. Kenson from a prison camp on Arathot. The extraction proceeded routinely and I returned with Dr. Kenson to the Project base."

Anderson's mouth tightened at the mention of the Project, and some traitorous part of her wondered if he'd known about it before it all went to hell. He didn't interrupt, though, and merely gestured for her to continue.

"Dr. Kenson informed me of the details of the Project and Object Rho." She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The situation was suspicious from the start, sir. Object Rho was in an unsecured location, and although Kenson was certain that the Reaper invasion was less than two days away, she seemed unconcerned. She got the jump on me and held me against my will under sedation." She felt her voice harden, remembering that awful dread when she'd seen the countdown timer after waking up. "By the time I escaped, the invasion was imminent. Kenson was clearly indoctrinated and had no intention of stopping it." She breathed out hard. "I did what had to be done."

Anderson nodded once, slowly. "Commander. I want you to know you did the right thing. It was a hard call to make, but necessary. Our technicians reached the same conclusion about the invasion and the countdown working from the datascans of Object Rho Dr. Kenson submitted early on in the Project."

"Sir," she said steadily, suppressing the icy shock of relief at that unexpected confirmation. "We narrowly dodged a bullet there, but there's no knowing how much time we've bought. The Reapers _are_ coming. We need to be ready."

Something defeated crept into Anderson's eyes and he looked aside. "I wish it were that simple. The military agrees with you, Commander. The threat is too great and too imminent to ignore. Parliament doesn't see it that way though. They don't want to accidentally trigger an arms race with the Hierarchy or sour relations with the Council by engaging in actions that could be seen as overtly aggressive."

There was a moment of uneasy quiet. Shepard watched Anderson, whose gaze had returned to hers. _A good man_, she thought, remembering his faith in her as a young recruit, and later, his belief and trust in her integrity when the rest of the galaxy had thought her crazy.

"Sir." The words came out sober, quieter than she had intended. "If all goes well, that may no longer be a problem."

He threw her a sharp look_. _"Explain, Commander."

"Yes, sir. The Reapers are a threat to every advanced civilization in the galaxy. This is not a war humanity can or should fight on its own." Anderson's face was impassive. Shepard continued, meeting his gaze. "I sent copies of the information we gathered on the Reapers with every member of my team who stood a chance of bringing it to their government's attention. This," she paused to extract the OSD from her pocket, "is the information in question."

He took it from her hand, eyes grim. "You're saying you shared classified material with foreign governments."

Shepard kept her back straight and her gaze steady as she responded. "We did not include information specific to Alliance assignments, but yes, sir. I considered that in this case my duty as a Spectre took precedence."

Anderson held her eyes for a moment, weighing her again, before sighing and tucking the OSD into his pocket. "You don't make my job easy, Shepard. We will review the information. Do you expect this will result in definite action from the other governments?"

"We have good hopes for a response from the Hierarchy and possibly the Union. The Migrant Fleet is likely too mired in internal politics to take any notice of an external threat, and the Republics lack the political unity to come to a quick consensus."

"I see. This complicates matters, Commander. I don't doubt your motives, but the politicians won't like it."

"I understand, sir."

Anderson held her eyes for a moment before continuing in a mild tone. "It is my duty to inform you that you are placed under arrest until such time as a trial can be held. In light of the information you've just shared, that situation may yet change, but for now, Lieutenant Vega will escort you to your quarters."

He opened the door and motioned to one of the marines, a solid man with a face like slab of meat, but quick, observant eyes.

"Lieutenant. Take the Commander to her quarters. You are assigned to guard her until further notice."

"Yes sir."

Shepard rendered a final salute to Anderson, and then followed Vega out of the room.

He led her in silence through a maze of busy corridors and up five stories in an elevator. They exited into another warren of halls, these nearly empty of traffic, unlike the ones below. Half-seriously, she took note of the route, just in case Garrus really _did_ have to bust her out.

At last, they arrived at a plain door in the middle of the hallway. Vega keyed it open, and they entered a small apartment, furnished in utilitarian, but not uncomfortable fashion. Vega cleared his throat.

"Here we are, ma'am. Take a look around. You see anything you want changed, we can do that. Within reason, of course."

Shepard nodded. "I'll let you know if I see anything." She gave Vega her best Commander stare and cut to the relevant part of the conversation. "So, Lieutenant. What are the rules?"

"Ma'am." Vega shifted his weight a little. "No outgoing calls or messages without prior approval. You have limited extranet access, but your activity is monitored and some sites and searches will not be accessible. And, uh," he grinned a little ruefully, "you're not permitted any weapons."

If Garrus had been there, she would have sniped back something about being utterly shocked at that last proviso, but he wasn't and she let it go without comment. "What about incoming messages?"

"Could happen. You might get some, if it makes it past the censors."

_Damned unlikely, then._

"Commander." Vega met her eyes frankly. "Look, just so you know, a lot of us guys in the rank and file are rooting for you. Thought someone ought to tell you."

His face was open and honest, and suddenly, Shepard felt terribly weary. She wondered how old Vega was, and if she'd seemed that young to Anderson, all those years ago. She kept her back straight and gave him a lopsided grin back – wouldn't do to ruin the image now.

"Glad to hear it, Lieutenant. I'll take that tour now."

* * *

"This complicates matters," said Hackett levelly. Only long association let Anderson hear the tension in his voice.

The OSD Shepard had given him lay on the desk between them. It had taken them a week and a specially selected team of technicians to pick through all the data and chase down the parts that could be verified. Shepard was as good as her word: there was a wealth of information on the Collectors, the Reapers, and Cerberus operations, but Alliance-specific information had been omitted wherever possible.

"You know as well as I do that Shepard was doing her duty as a Spectre."

Hackett leaned on the desk and steepled his hands in front of him. "Don't misunderstand me. There's no question of Shepard's loyalty here. I've known her almost as long as you have; she's Alliance, through and through."

"But that's not how Parliament will see it."

"You and I both know that, Anderson. It's a damn shame, too. If Shepard's managed to get through to the Hierarchy and the Union, we stand a fighting chance of Council support."

Anderson shook his head slowly. "Is it just me, or do the politics here stink?"

Hackett smiled, a slow, lazy tug at the corner of his mouth that pulled at the scar across his face. It was not a friendly expression. "Got it in one. Shepard has an unfortunate talent for being the right woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Project was an Alliance operation. We hadn't expected to ever use that contingency, and to be frank, we were in the dark as to how far along it had progressed, but Bahak's destruction was on the table from day one. Shepard is just a convenient scapegoat."

Anderson began to pace back and forth across the room. "The timing is all wrong on this. We looked at the data we got from Kenson. We had two days to spare! We need people like Shepard out on the ground now, not tangled up in courtroom proceedings!"

"Her aptitude for command is impressive, and her ability to get disparate groups to work with her is nothing short of astounding, but she's politically toxic at the moment. Even leaving out Bahak, her association with Cerberus ruined her credibility."

Anderson opened his mouth to protest, but Hackett beat him to it.

"You know my stance on this, Anderson. Shepard is the straightest arrow I've ever met. If she says she didn't work for them out of choice, then I believe her. But the fact remains that she was in their hands for two years. They rebuilt her, David. Every time we run across Cerberus operations, they're neck deep in some of the most unethical fringe research out there. It wouldn't be hard for them to find some way to exert influence over her."

Anderson stilled, his expression tired. "I know, Steven. It's crossed my mind too. But, damn it, we've both talked to her at length. That's definitely Shepard. If her squad and her actions at the Collector base are anything to go by, her politics haven't changed."

They were both quiet for a moment. Anderson sat in the room's other chair and leaned his chin on his folded hands. Slowly, he spoke. "Can we kill two birds with one stone here? Let Cerberus take the blame for Bahak. The Alliance is off the hook, Shepard goes free, and we get an excuse to shut them down for good."

Hackett's face was inscrutable, but he lowered his hands to fold them neatly on the desk. "Shepard's involvement still needs to be explained."

"She was working a deep-cover operation to gather intel on Cerberus activities. Hell, with the information she's given us on them, it's practically true. Put her in charge of the clean-up operation to showcase her loyalty to the Alliance and galactic security."

Hackett regarded him levelly. His tone was neutral when he spoke. "Your time in the Council's changed you."

Anderson's face soured. "That's all it was there. Politics and paperwork. It was all about keeping track of who owed who what favors."

"It's a good story. It won't fool everyone, but it's credible enough to fly."

"It's what we need right now. We need Shepard out in the field now, making use of that leadership ability. She's right that we can't fight this alone."

There was a long silence before Hackett replied. "In most circumstances I would veto this. Cover-ups are a necessary evil of military strategy, but they tend to come around to bite you in the ass. But in this case, I agree. Shepard has a proven track record, allies in the right places, and direct experience with the enemy. She's the best choice we have to spearhead preparations on a galactic scale."

He stood and paced to the window, looking out over the city. "I'll begin making the arrangements, but I want a full medical workup on Shepard first. Make sure Cerberus didn't leave us any surprises."

* * *

The first weeks of her incarceration were less eventful than Shepard had expected. She received no instructions, summons, or visitors. She suspected that whoever was watching her was playing a waiting game, trying to soften her up before questioning, or perhaps hoping she might let slip something to Vega. She tried to look up reports on Bahak over the extranet, but the filters wouldn't let her through to the news sites. The apartment housed a small collection of inoffensive classic novels and vids, which she unenthusiastically browsed to stave off boredom and temper. When these no longer sufficed, she ran on the treadmill provided until her lungs burned and her knees ached.

It was a strange state of limbo. She felt alternately numb at her isolation and furious at the waste of time. Vega did his best to make her comfortable. He was friendly and talkative when approached, but he knew when to shut up. He stubbornly referred to her by rank, despite the fact that it was most likely inappropriate by now, and she suspected that he would bend the rules a little if she asked, though she wasn't fool enough to think he'd break them.

She thought about her crew, wondered where they were and what they were doing. The former Cerberus crew was probably getting the same treatment she was. She wondered if Tali had made it back to the Fleet okay, and whether going back had been the right choice. Mordin would probably be haranguing STG command by now about the Reapers (and what she wouldn't give to watch that conversation), and Garrus was on Palaven, trying to deal with his family and knock some sense into the Hierarchy. She wondered if he'd written her like he'd said he would, concluded that it didn't matter as it would never make it past the censors.

The other members of her ground squad had scattered to their own devices. Grunt had headed to Tuchanka, but the others could be anywhere. Most had valid reasons to lie low, like Jack and Kasumi, or just to wander, like Samara.

In her darker moments of self-examination, Shepard thought it was probably the experience of Akuze that had made command so personal for her. The men and women who'd died around her there had been familiar faces, but she hadn't really known them. After the rescue, that had felt like a betrayal. Perhaps such an attachment to her crew was unprofessional. Hell, her attachment to Garrus was _definitely_ unprofessional. She couldn't bring herself to regret it, though.

Her thoughts were interrupted by chime of Vega's omni-tool. He opened the message and cleared his throat.

"Commander. They want you down in medical. Just a routine check-up, it looks like."

_Yeah, I'll bet._ Well. She'd wanted (and just as badly _not wanted_) to know just what Cerberus had put under the hood. She trusted Chakwas, but everyone had known they were under surveillance, and Chakwas herself might not have wanted her to know the extent to which she had been reconstructed. _"Meat and tubes,"_ Jacob had said. Hell.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," she said, ignoring the knot in her gut.

Medical was down three stories, on one of the floors with lots of traffic. She was ushered in quietly and given an embarrassingly thorough going over by a stiff, efficient woman who made no comment beyond necessary instructions, and responded to questions with a cool assertion that the results would be discussed only after the tests were complete. Shepard bore it with grudging stoicism, accepting that this was yet another headgame. At the conclusion, she was ejected to a sterile, empty chamber to await the results.

It took a good half hour before the doctor returned ("Smith," according to her nametag). Without preamble, she took the seat across from Shepard and queued up a number of scan images on the room's terminal. Against her will, Shepard found herself liking Smith's straight-to-business approach. She didn't think she was in the practice of sugarcoating bad news or handing out false platitudes.

"These are the scans we took of you. There has been extensive cybernetic modification to your musculoskeletal system, including several areas in which bones have been entirely replaced by synthetics. Most of your viscera have the protein markers for a cloning process. Your circulatory system shows signs of extensive reconstruction at the nanoscale, and your heart is assisted by an artificial pump."

Shepard licked her lips. "Nervous system?"

Smith shot her a look that might have been sympathetic, but answered the question in the same brisk voice she'd used throughout the visit. "Your brain appears to be the original. No alteration or augmentation to organic tissue, although there is evidence of treatment for severe hypoxia. Your cognitive function should be unimpaired and unaltered from its original state. Your spinal cord and peripheral nervous system have been organically regrown to a great extent."

Shepard released the breath she had been holding. It was not as bad as she'd feared. The extent of the reconstruction was sickening, but also distant, delivered clinically like this. Miranda's confession about the chip she'd wanted to put in her brain had given rise to a lingering fear that she was dancing to invisible strings, and the confirmation that that particular plan had never come to fruition was staggeringly welcome.

Smith continued on. "We did find two tracking devices, one at your hip and one at your shoulder, as well as several items which appear to be monitoring devices for your cybernetics. We will remove the tracking implants, but I suggest you keep the monitors, as it will make future treatment and diagnostics easier."

And just like that, her relief was gone, swallowed up in a cold rage at the intrusion upon her person and the power Cerberus had held over her without her knowledge.

"Get the trackers out," she bit out. "Now."

Smith stood, expressionless as ever.

"Follow me."

The procedure was quick and relatively painless. When it was over, Smith marched her out of the operating room and back to Vega, waiting in the lobby. To her surprise, Anderson was with him.

"Sir." She saluted.

"Shepard. There's been a change in plans. Come with me."

They followed him through the corridors to a spartan, meticulously organized room that she guessed must be his office. He motioned Vega to the door and they both walked over to the window.

"We reviewed your information, Shepard. Along with the data we received from the Project, it's enough to convince high command of the threat. You're the best of the best. We want you out there fighting for us."

There was a fierce satisfaction in that, that at last the powers that be had taken notice of the Reapers breathing down their necks.

It seemed too easy.

"I'm sensing a catch, sir."

"Officially, Cerberus was responsible for the destruction of Bahak. You have been engaged in a covert operation for the last two years attempting to sabotage their operations."

"I see." And she did. It was a slick story, and she couldn't exactly be sorry that the Alliance was putting the heat on the Illusive Man, but the necessity of the lie rankled.

"You'll be leading the missions to root out the rest of their operations. Cerberus has been a thorn in our side for too long, and we can't afford to have them stirring up anti-human sentiment at this juncture. We want them gone." He turned to face her, eyes serious. "Don't screw this up, Shepard. You'll be under close scrutiny. We expect to see Cerberus completely eradicated."

"You can count on me for that." She hesitated, then continued. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Go ahead."

"I understand the need from a PR standpoint, and you won't hear me arguing against putting Cerberus down for good. But with all due respect, we have bigger fish to fry. We should be preparing for an invasion, not wasting resources chasing after terrorists."

"We will be preparing. We've started making changes to our infrastructure to increase our readiness, and based on your assessment, have made overtures to the Hierarchy and the Union. Parliament is still not convinced, but if your contacts in the other governments come through, they'll come around. We'll continue to prepare while you're otherwise occupied. But we want to get your name cleared and you back out on the field. You and the Normandy have become a symbol, something the galaxy at large knows and respects. You have an unparalleled ability to get people who should be at each others' throats to work together and do it well. We're going to need that."

Her throat closed up tight. "You want me to be a figurehead."

He shot her a level look. "We want you to hit the Reapers where it hurts. If I know you Shepard, you'll do what it takes."

She stood straight and saluted. "Yes, sir."

Anderson examined her a moment, before returning the salute and sending her a tired smile. "We recently received a tip from an anonymous source regarding a Cerberus interest in Eden Prime."

"An anonymous source, sir?" she asked skeptically.

"We suspect your former colleague, Ms. Lawson. Normally, given the location, we'd put it down as another conspiracy theorist, but there have been some suspicious fly-bys of the area recently, and there are rumors that the archaeologists there have uncovered something big."

"This sounds familiar, sir."

"I'm sure. You're to travel to the dig site and see if there's anything to this. Any Prothean technology of importance is to be turned over to Alliance custody. Lieutenant Vega will accompany you, and your former crewmate Dr. T'Soni will meet you there."

"Liara's involved in this?" Last she'd seen Liara, she'd been on Hagalaz, settling into the Shadow Broker's mantle.

"She's been a consult on that dig since the incident with Saren. She was recently called in to offer her expert opinion."

"Then they did find something."

"It seems likely." He paused. "Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams will also accompany you."

"The same Ash I served with on the SR-1?" The words seemed to stick in her throat, caught in the memory of Virmire, and then Horizon. Ash had been a good friend. Once.

"The same." Anderson paused and briefly drummed his fingers on the windowsill. "Commander, I don't think I need to tell you what a black eye it would be for the Alliance if Eden Prime were to be attacked again. Get in there fast and figure out what's going on down there. We want the trouble neutralized before it starts, this time."

"I'll do my best sir."

He flashed her a brief, real smile. "I have every confidence in you, Shepard. Be ready to leave tomorrow at 1500 hours."

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AN: Thanks again to Cadmos for the excellent beta-reading. Remaining mistakes should be blamed on me.


	3. Chapter 3

The Primarch was a tall, ascetic-looking man with Palaven markings for Tevas prefecture and a clan he didn't recognize. Garrus had known his father was friends with Fedorian, that they'd served a tour together, but had never met him. The Primarch rose from his desk to greet them when they entered. At the terminal he'd left behind, Garrus could see the recording of the Collector base mission.

"Savian. It's good to see you. This is your son?"

"Garrus Vakarian, sir."

The Primarch turned to examine him, face inscrutable. Garrus met his eyes and kept his own expression neutral.

"Hn. You're not what I expected."

Garrus threw his father a sharp glance, wondering what stories had been told about him in his absence. To his surprise, his father raised a placating hand, his own expression curious.

"You've seen those files, Kaius. What did you make of them?"

The Primarch gestured for them to sit and returned to his desk, boots clicking across the floor. "If almost anyone else had brought me this information, I would have dismissed it out of hand. However, Technical assures me that it is in all likelihood genuine, and Intelligence has been able to corroborate some elements of your story."

Garrus kept his posture straight, but could not quite keep his mandibles from flicking down in startlement. He'd watched Shepard try and fail to talk sense into the Council more times than he could count, and he'd been prepared to have to argue Fedorian into taking the information seriously.

The Primarch continued speaking, hands folded neatly in front of him. "Given the commonalities between the Collector raids and the attack on the Citadel, I'm forced to agree with Shepard's assessment of a threat to galactic security. There's no question that action is required."

He leaned forward a little, and Garrus was stuck by the utter control this man exercised over his reactions. His mandibles remained fixed in a neutral attitude, and aside from that change in position, there was nothing to acknowledge that he had just admitted a threat to the safety of every advanced civilization in the galaxy.

"However, this leaves the Hierarchy in a difficult position. An overt military build-up will strain our relations with the other powers, and may tax our resources prematurely. We will, of course, bring the matter to the Council's attention, but with Shepard currently standing court-martial, it seems unlikely that the Alliance will back us."

A flicker of anger sparked awake in Garrus at the deflection. This was the same song and dance the Council had given Shepard, just with a friendlier prelude. _It's not the Reapers that will kill us. It's the politics._

"Primarch," he interjected, more sharply than he'd meant to. At his side, his father made a subvocal sound of startled displeasure at the interruption. "This invasion is only months away, at best. We don't have that kind of time."

Fedorian's eyes bored into him. "Are you certain?"

"Completely. They're already knocking at the Hegemony's door."

The Primarch went completely still, and his father let out a long hiss of breath. Garrus would bet everything he owned that he'd just provided a handy explanation for a lot of intelligence networks going dark.

Fedorian turned to face him completely, displaying only mild interest on his face, but a serious note in his voice. "Then what do you suggest, Vakarian?"

The question set alarms ringing in the back of his mind. The tone and phrasing sounded too much like one of Shepard's questions, which had a way of coming around to strike you where you least expected it. He answered it honestly, the many extrapolations and guesses they'd made about Reaper strategy coming easily to the forefront of his mind.

"Contact the Alliance. At least some of their high command took Shepard at her word. Contact the Union as well – STG received this information also. This isn't a war we can win alone – we need Council support and all the allies we can get. In the meantime, harden our lines of communication as much as possible, extend the perimeter of our early warning range, and get the infrastructure in place for planet-wide evacuations."

"Evacuations? You think that will be necessary?"

"The Reapers don't have strategic objectives as we know them. They won't attempt to capture territory; they'll be focused on exterminating the populace. They'll hit large population centers without regard for strategic importance."

"What else?"

He suppressed the urge to get up and pace. "We need to do a thorough sweep of our territory for Reaper tech and contain it and anyone who's had prolonged contact. We can't afford to be brought down from the inside by a few indoctrinated individuals in high places." He hesitated slightly before continuing, knowing he was treading dangerously close to several kinds of insubordination. But this wasn't a war that would allow compromise or vacillation – that had to be made clear. "And we can't delay too long to mobilize our defenses. We need to begin gathering the resources to build up our defenses rapidly, in the case the Council will not cooperate."

At this point, his father broke in sharply. "You're suggesting we break with the Council."

"Not yet. But we should be prepared to."

His father hissed out through his teeth, and the Primarch leaned back slightly in his seat, expression hard and thoughtful.

"That is... more along the lines of what I expected of you."

Garrus stiffened._ What the hell is going on here?_ "Sir?" he inquired in as bland a tone as he could muster.

"Your service file makes note of your tactical aptitude, your technical skill, and your potential for future command. It also notes your repeated creative interpretation of regulations, your occasional recklessness, and your disregard for authority. Your C-Sec records are much the same."

Fedorian leaned forward onto his desk again, dropping his subtones into a mildly threatening inflection and holding Garrus' eyes all the while. "I don't need troublemakers. But I do need someone to coordinate preparations for this invasion, a Reaper Advisor, if you will, and right now you're the only person in the Hierarchy with practical experience against the enemy. Shepard evidently thought you were capable enough to be her second. In the absence of any other recent colleagues or superiors, I'll take that as a recommendation."

He felt disoriented, like someone had fired off a round right next to his ear. This couldn't be right. Somewhat dazedly, he corrected the Primarch. "Miranda Lawson was Commander Shepard's XO, sir."

The Primarch tilted his head in mild curiosity. "Oh? Did I misinterpret that? Shepard seems to have placed a great deal of trust in your judgment."

He stayed silent, not sure how to respond to that, and the Primarch continued. "Let me be clear, Vakarian: don't let this be a mistake. Ordinarily, you would not be my first choice for this position, but the circumstances can't be denied." Fedorian's mandibles widened slightly, a deliberate show of teeth. "You'll report to General Victus. You will follow his lead and will not exceed or work around your orders. You will be cautious. You have no latitude to take explicit military action - the Hierarchy will not incite a war with the other Council races because you could not restrain your enthusiasm. Do you understand me?"

Garrus kept his expression civil only by an effort of will. The speech tasted of old arguments with his father and superiors. "Yes sir."

Fedorian gave him a measured nod and tapped a button on his terminal interface. "Victus is sending someone over now. Meet with him and begin to work out what needs to be done. I expect a plan of action by the end of the week. Dismissed."

Garrus stood and saluted, and made his way out of the room. As he left, he caught sight of his father leaning in towards Fedorian, saying something in barking, agitated tones.

As he loitered outside the door, waiting for Victus' guide, he took stock of what had happened. Slowly, the shock boiled away into a bitter sort of humor. _'Reaper Advisor?' He thinks I'm the best choice for a job like that? He needs a strategist, not a sometime vigilante with authority issues. _A young man with an administrative insignia approached him, presumably the guide.

"Garrus Vakarian?" The kid looked him up and down, and hesitantly added a "sir." "I'll take you to General Victus' office."

Garrus held back a bark of laughter – the 'sir' would take getting used to. "Lead the way," he said instead.

* * *

Victus lived up to his reputation. Military through and through with a soldier's bluntness, but clearly a man who considered his every word carefully. He'd greeted Garrus with every appearance of seriousness, and laid out for him what, exactly, his new job required. His unassuming manner was welcome, and Garrus wasn't about to turn down an ally of his caliber.

The Reaper Advisor gig was looking more manageable as well. A task force. He could handle a task force. Victus had given him a series of dossiers to look at, which had reminded him strangely of early days aboard the SR-2. Once he'd left the room, Garrus had typed a brief message to Shepard on his omni-tool that she probably wouldn't get. _They gave me a task force. I have an office and a set of dossiers to look through. Wish you were here._

Looking through the dossiers was a strange experience. His team on Omega had grown organically, and he'd had to work hard to find the best way to use them. This was coming at the process from the opposite end, trying to guess what skills he'd need most and identify the right candidates from among the bloodless lists of names and histories. A number of the files he'd set aside were logistics, intelligence, and communications specialists. Improved infrastructure should arouse no political shitstorms and might buy them crucial time when the invasion came. He'd also selected a handful of talented engineers and negotiators, and, after some thought, a small cadre of soldiers. He doubted their work would require combat, but the team would need people who knew firsthand what the front lines required. At the end, he wound up with a shortlist of twenty candidates. He fired off a message to Victus and set about the business of outlining the work to be done.

_Make contact with Council and other potential allies. Bolster communications lines. Extend early warning perimeter. Create evacuation procedures. Find and eliminate Reaper tech. Stockpile food stores, medical supplies, and raw materials. Divert resources to manufacturing. Increase number and frequency of patrols of Hierarchy borders. Intensify training for battles against dreadnaught class ships._

The list kept growing longer. There were dozens of areas that could be shored up, but it was frustrating to have to refrain from anything that might be construed as overt military action. He read all the reports he could stand on current Hierarchy communications and defenses, and sent a request for more. By the time he was done, the day had nearly drawn to a close. He took a cab home, tired but strangely satisfied. It wasn't the kind of work he'd have chosen to do. The reports were already bringing up bad ghosts of his days at C-Sec, and the paperwork and politicking would be a nightmare, he could tell. But at least it was something concrete, a start to holding the Reapers off.

By the time he got home, twilight had fallen. He paused at the door of the house, feeling too restless to go in. After a moment's thought, he headed around to the back, where the jungle butted up against the cleared area of the range. He called up the barriers, the sound-proofing, and the warning lights, and then spent a few minutes on his omni-tool, adjusting the settings on the Chiktikka clone Tali had given him. The drone spun up and hovered off to look for a place to hide, and Garrus unholstered the little-used pistol at his back.

For a long while, he hunted the drone through the familiar landscape of his family's property, letting his mind go quiet and blank in the familiar rhythm of aim and fire. He was interrupted when the perimeter warning chimed, and Solana walked into the clearing, her own pistol in hand.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Saw you out here. Mind if I join in?"

"Be my guest." He opened up the drone interface and reset it to run straight lines in front of them, darting between patches of cover. Solana lined up at his side and they took their shots in silence for a few minutes. As they paused to swap clips, she spoke up.

"So did your visit to the Primarch have anything to do with that classified mission?"

"Yeah." He rammed the clip home and took another shot. "Information's gotten where it needs to go and you'll hear it soon anyway. The Reapers are coming."

She snorted. "Reapers? Come on, Garrus. Answer a question seriously for once."

"I am."

There was a pause so long they winged Chiktikka Mk. II three separate times as Solana waited for the punchline. When it was not forthcoming, she dropped her weapon and turned to face him.

"Reapers? Really? You spent those two years chasing after spirits-damned Reapers? And Dad _believed_ you?"

"Just the last six months. And yes. We brought a lot of evidence." Garrus glanced away uncomfortably. "I'm supposed to be some sort of Reaper Advisor now."

Solana watched him intently for a few seconds before speaking slowly. "You're serious. They're real?"

"Yeah," he breathed out. "They're real and they're coming. Not sure when, but soon. It's going to be bad, Sol." He holstered the pistol and shut down the drone, and by silent accord, they drifted off to sit in the battered old chairs on the house's verandah.

"How did you find out?"

Slowly, he told her about the missions with Shepard, starting with that long chase after Saren and ending with the destruction of the Collector base. He omitted some of the details, like Shepard having been dead for real, and his stint on Omega. By the time he had finished, night had fallen completely, and they sat in the dark, listening to the occasional call of the jungle's inhabitants.

"It sounds crazy," she said.

"I know. I wouldn't have believed it either. Almost three years since we started chasing Reapers, and we still can't figure them out. The idea of such a detached, impersonal genocide is hard to wrap your head around. They don't make any sense."

Solana shook her head. "And you said you're supposed to advise the Hierarchy on them now?"

"Yeah. Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are."

"Finally trapped in a desk job you can't get out of, Garrus?"

He grimaced. "A desk, an office, and more reports than I've ever seen in my life."

She laughed softly, and he relaxed. Suddenly, they were returned to familiar footing, the tension between them since they'd re-established contact bled away. They were older and their circumstances had changed vastly, but the teasing was comfortable, like another sort of homecoming.

"I missed you," he said, grinning up at the night sky. "Chat just wasn't the same."

"Yeah. Glad you're back."

* * *

Garrus spent most of the next day interviewing task force candidates. Their qualifications for the position were already well-established, so his interest was in making sure these people would be capable of working together and inventive enough to work around the limitations they would have.

He wasn't entirely sure of his ability to select the right people. On Omega, he'd had the pressure of combat and a plethora of personal grudges to cement his team together. This was a different beast. In the end, he rejected two of the soldiers, an engineer, and three of the logisticians, leaving him with a team of fourteen. He sent them home with an abbreviated history of his and Shepard's contacts with the Reapers, an edited version of the video they'd taken, and a copy of their mission statement, signed by Victus and the Primarch, and told them to report for duty the next day.

After that, the week flew past. He took a page out of Shepard's book, not for the first time, and spent some time talking with his team, trying to foresee what they'd do well and where they'd balk. They were good men and women, dedicated and competent. To their credit, they appeared to have taken the Reapers in stride as much as was possible, and set to work fleshing out the sketchy plans he'd made with alacrity.

Victus also proved himself an able ally, pointing out the strategic problems that Garrus missed and cutting a great deal of the red tape standing in his way. They got themselves a cliched map of Hierarchy space and spent a lot of time marking weak points and fortified areas and places they couldn't afford to lose. When Garrus upgraded it to a galaxy-wide map, Victus had given him a long, level look and a pithy, "You're an ambitious man, Vakarian," but he'd played along, and they'd guessed as well as they could where the Reapers would strike first and what would crumple under them. Victus was a solid, calm personality, but that exterior hid the flair for ruthless, unorthodox tactics that his reputation suggested. If Garrus had never served with Shepard, he might have counted him as the best superior he'd ever had.

At the end of the week, he sent his report to the Primarch. It came back the next day with a terse approval, a hefty budget, and an unsubtle reminder not to screw it up. He took it as a minor victory, and the team set to the real work of preparation.

He spent almost all his waking time at the Cipritine military complex, returning only late in the evening. Solana returned to her unit, her leave cut short, most likely due to one of his own directives. His paltry free time, he mostly spent with his mother. Much of the time, she was close to normal – speaking was increasingly difficult, and she sometimes lost the thread of long conversations, but there were periods where he could forget she was sick. There were bad days also, though, where she didn't recognize him, or suddenly forgot how to do simple tasks she'd easily done all her life. She seemed to crumble away bit by bit in front of him. He forced himself to watch, terrified that when he next came back, the last bit of her would have disappeared.

His father was quiet and reserved. They had civil conversation, but neither was entirely sure how to navigate the gulf between them. The sudden change in Garrus' circumstances likely didn't help; so many of their disagreements had centered around his relationship with responsibility and authority. He had the nagging feeling that his father was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to succumb to the frustration that had dogged his career at C-Sec.

He wrote to Shepard twice, as she'd asked him. Nothing regarding their tours on the Normandy or his current work, and nothing of an... ah, overtly personal nature. He was sure that whatever he wrote made the rounds of a battery of censors. No need to throw bones to a hungry varren. So he wrote about Palaven and about his family, and the little things about Hierarchy culture that he thought she'd find strange. He'd gotten brief messages from Tali and Liara, and he sent those along as well, suitably edited for the presumed censors.

Sometime in the last half of the second week, he started seeing extranet reports about Bahak being the work of Cerberus. At first, he put it down to rumor-mongering – Cerberus was enough of a bogeyman for the anti-human contingent that it wasn't entirely surprising that their name would come up in connection with Bahak. But the stories grew more persistent, and finally, he found an ANN press release squarely laying the blame at the doors of his former employers and conveniently exonerating Shepard. The report linked to an interview with Shepard herself, standing straight and tall, giving some details and a lot of "that's classified" to a somewhat cowed reporter asking about her undercover work. He smiled wide enough to make his injured mandible spasm, and sent a message to Shepard. Still mindful of possible censors, he kept it short. _Hear you're out and about again. Save a few Cerberus goons for me._ He sent a message to Liara immediately after, asking her what was going on with Shepard and Alliance command. The answer came back quickly, with a promise to pass on his greetings to Shepard when they met up for whatever classified Cerberus-related mission Liara had somehow got stuck in the middle of. It was the best news he'd heard in weeks, and he couldn't keep the lightness out of his voice.

His father had evidently heard the news also. The next morning, when he went to break his fast, his father was already there, eating his own meal. They ate side by side in quiet for a while, before his father broke the silence.

"I hear they've released Shepard and sent her to hunt down Cerberus."

Garrus couldn't quite keep the smug satisfaction out of his subtones as he replied. "I heard about it yesterday. If I know Shepard, she'll make short work of them and enjoy it."

His father's mandibles worked up and down for a moment. "She won't have second thoughts after having worked for them?"

Garrus paused to sip at his drink before replying. "We ran across their work a few times chasing Saren. It was ugly. They say they're working to advance their species, but they had no qualms about using their own people as test subjects for their 'research.' Completely ruthless and utterly amoral. We shut them down hard every time we came across them. Shepard was hissing mad at having to work with them. So no, I don't think she'll have a problem."

His father eyed him curiously. "You're close to her," he said neutrally.

"She's a good friend," he temporized.

His father tapped a finger on the table. "Not just that. I thought she had you picked out for her second too when I first saw those videos."

Garrus put down his drink, idly tracing the rim of the glass with his thumb. "When she picked me up, we were alone on that ship. Chakwas and Joker – the doctor and pilot from the first Normandy - were there, but they didn't run ops. We didn't trust the Cerberus crew, so we planned out the missions between us."

His father shot him a disbelieving glance. "She asked you to be the only non-human on a Cerberus ship, and you accepted?"

He lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Shepard's the most honest person I've ever met. She needed my help, and she wouldn't have taken me along if the situation wasn't controllable."

His father mulled that over, expression somewhere between exasperation and incredulity, and then produced a quiet, almost rueful laugh. "How times have changed. Never thought I'd see my son serve under a human CO."

"Best CO I've ever had, too," he rejoined with a smirk.

They ate in silence for a minute before his father spoke again. "I admit, I thought Fedorian was making a mistake when he handed you that job. He was impressed by your report though, and Victus says you know what you're doing."

Garrus blinked, momentarily blindsided. His father had never handed out praise easily. He glanced away, uncomfortable. "Ah. No pressure, then."

His father replied seriously, ignoring the deflection. "I don't know all of what you've been doing the last few years, Garrus, but you've changed. You've always had a lot of potential. I'm glad to see you living up to it."

Garrus cleared his throat, discomfited at the turn the conversation had taken and not quite sure how to handle the strange amicability between them. Eventually, he replied. "I'll endeavor not to disappoint."

Things seemed to ease between them after that. Still not completely comfortable, but they had a better idea of where they stood.

His work escalated sharply thereafter. In light of Shepard's apparent exoneration, he pushed hard to get the Hierarchy to make contact with the Alliance, since someone had evidently listened to what Shepard had had to say. The politicians were frustratingly close-mouthed about any progress in that quarter, so he settled for making as much noise about it as he could. He didn't hear anything from Shepard herself, but he'd expected that after Liara's explanation. She was still under close scrutiny, and likely wouldn't be deemed trustworthy until Cerberus was wiped off the map. He poured his excess energy into their efforts to prepare for the invasion, but found himself increasingly restless. Garrus was fairly sure that a desk job was bad for his health, despite the fact that the alternative for him usually ended in a firefight.

Their first priority had been to reinforce their perimeter and communications, but close on its heels had been a thorough sweep of Hierarchy space for Reaper artifacts and possible indoctrination vectors. Garrus remembered the fate of that Cerberus science team all too well, and Bahak had been far too close for comfort. The isolated outposts they'd come across while chasing Saren also came to mind, those eerie places filled with husks and dragon's teeth and strange hulking machines with no evident purpose. At the time, they'd put them down to geth raids, but now he wondered.

Thankfully, up until now, they hadn't turned up much beyond isolated pieces of technology of questionable origins which were easy to acquire from the original owners, quarantine, and study remotely. The report one of his intelligence people had just submitted, however, hinted at something much larger.

"Paixa. You're sure about this?"

"No question about it, sir. Tech Recon definitely recovered the main gun and large parts of the drive core, as well as several smaller components of undisclosed nature. The R&D facility they're housed in appears to have gone dark a few weeks ago. As near as we can tell, there's been at least one investigation, but this isn't raising as many flags as it should."

Damn it. He should have known the Thanix was too good to be true. Although there was a certain satisfaction to be had in having used a miniaturized version of Sovereign's main gun to punch a hole through that Collector ship.

"Good work, Paixa. I'll try and get some answers. See if you can dig up anything about what they were working on before they dropped off the grid."

"Yes sir."

Back on the Citadel, he'd wondered what had happened to Sovereign's corpse. It wasn't surprising that the Hierarchy had moved to recover it. A ship that could hold an entire fleet at bay was worth dissecting. When he'd been back there, helping to direct the clean-up crews, he hadn't felt any alarm at seeing the pieces of the ship carted off to parts unknown. But now... now they knew even a dead Reaper was capable of indoctrination. Just how dead did a Reaper need to be before it wasn't a threat?

Garrus fired off a quick message to Victus requesting a meeting. Despite the worry that the thought of an indoctrinated weapons R&D team posed, some small part of him couldn't help but lighten in anticipation.

Maybe he stood a better chance of a good firefight on this job than he'd thought.

.

.

.

AN: As always, thanks to Cadmos for beta-ing!


	4. Chapter 4

It was good to be back in an Alliance uniform, and damn close to heaven to be striding down the long dock to the Normandy's waiting hulk. Shepard felt more like herself than she had in weeks. She had a ship and a mission and a fight to win.

As good as it felt, though, it came with a lot of strings attached – not unlike the last time she'd left a prolonged incarceration on the Normandy. Vega - _James_ - marched easily at her left shoulder, and she knew Ashley was waiting for her. Her watchdogs. Shepard might technically be in command of this mission, but that would change quickly if she made a wrong move. This was a test of her loyalties as well as a PR stunt.

As they approached the airlock, she spied Ashley waiting at the hatch, standing straight and proud. This woman had once been a close friend, a sister-in-arms. It was good to see her, even if the ashes of Horizon left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Permission to come aboard, Lieutenant Commander?"

Ashley's smile was a little tight, but genuine nonetheless. "Permission granted. Welcome aboard, skipper."

"It's good to be back, Ash."

Ashley led them through a quick, business-like tour of the Normandy, and Shepard noted and cataloged the changes the Alliance had made as they went. Lights were dimmed like they should be on a warship, and the Cerberus logo had been stripped from the décor, replaced by the Alliance's symbol. The comm room had been hastily upgraded with a quantum entanglement communicator. The majority of the crew were new, but in among them were familiar faces – Joker and Chakwas were there, and she found Daniels and Donnelly, and, to her surprise, Adams, in engineering. She wondered whether their inclusion was intended as a good-will gesture or as a bribe. Nonetheless, it felt like a homecoming, and she realized, with a slight sense of incredulity, that the Normandy was the most permanent place she'd ever lived.

Afterwards, she dismissed James to the cargo hold to assist with last minute preparations, and for a moment, she watched the organized frenzy of the crew preparing the Normandy for flight. Then, she caught Ashley's eye and nodded toward the elevator.

"Walk with me, Ash."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." The words were delivered with the fire she'd expect from a soldier like Ashley, but the tone behind them was neutral.

They made the lift, and she keyed it up to the captain's cabin. The cabin had always made Shepard uncomfortable – it looked like a hotel room, not a soldier's quarters. There was a skylight and a goddamned fishtank, pointless luxuries that didn't belong on a military vessel. She'd succumbed to temptation and filled the ridiculous glass display cases with expensive model ships bought on Cerberus' dime as a small, personal 'fuck you' to the Illusive Man, but she'd stripped the rest of it down to be as utilitarian as possible. Nonetheless, she was keenly aware of Ashley's critical stare.

They drifted to the small seating area, and stood awkwardly for a moment. Shepard wished this room had a desk that she could sit across, but took the couch as a poor substitute.

"Take a seat, Ash."

Gingerly, she did, and for a moment, the two women inspected each other. Ashley looked much the same as Shepard remembered her on the first Normandy. Perhaps a little older and more tired, but wasn't that the case for all of them?

"Let me be absolutely clear," she started. "We both know that your job here is to keep an eye on me. I understand that, and I won't interfere or protest. At the same time, you're technically under my command at the moment. We didn't part on the best of terms. I need to know if that's going to be a problem if things go pear-shaped down there."

A flicker of anger passed over Ashley's face, quickly controlled and redirected into a blunt stare. "You were working with Cerberus, Commander. The captain I knew would have drawn the line there." She held up a hand. "I know what happened. I know how you wound up with them. But I don't get why you stayed with them."

Shepard returned her stare and kept her voice level as she replied. "No one else was fighting the Reapers."

Ashley's mouth twisted bitterly. "So the ends justify the means, then?"

"You're a soldier, Ash. That's what it comes down to, sometimes. I repeat: will this be a problem in the field?"

A silence, then an inhale. "No, ma'am. I'll do my duty and I'll follow your lead, unless my orders tell me otherwise."

"Good." Shepard hesitated, then said it anyway. "Trust me a little, here, Ash."

A beat of quiet passed before Ashley's grave response came. "I'm trying, ma'am."

Shepard held her gaze for another moment. "Dismissed."

"Commander."

After Ashley had exited the room, Shepard let out a sigh and paced to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and ran her hands under it and over her face. _Might have lost that friendship for good._ Aboard the SR-1, Ashley had been something of a kindred spirit, someone who cut straight to the heart of things and had no qualms about speaking her mind. They hadn't always agreed, but she'd liked the way Ash stuck to her guns.

She dried her face and dismissed that train of thought. She had a ship to run and a mission to get underway.

* * *

Eden Prime had recovered greatly since she'd seen it last. It lay peaceful and green beneath the shuttle, nothing like the nightmarish battlefield she remembered. The only scars that remained were the pockmarks on the hills where they'd been cratered by rockets, slowly filling in with brush.

She caught sight of Ashley staring at the view, knuckles white on the ceiling hold.

"Okay, Ash?"

She shook out of whatever she'd been thinking and her grip loosened. "I'll make it." She was quiet a moment, and then said, almost to herself, "It seems like a long time ago."

_Yeah,_ Shepard silently agreed. _Yeah, it does._

The shuttle made a clear touchdown at the tiny port's VIP landing zone. The excavation site loomed in the distance, a strange mix of graceful Prothean towers and squat pre-fab housing. Ominously, a small group of Alliance soldiers guarded the tram station across from the landing pad. Just past the safety barricade, she spied a familiar asari figure, along with a short, pale man with the look of middle-management about him.

"Shepard! Over here!"

"Liara! Good to see you again."

And it _was_ good to see Liara again, although there was an uneasiness to the friendship that hadn't been there before. The cool, calculating Liara who'd masterminded a strike on the Shadow Broker and then taken over his position was a far cry from the sweet-natured academic she'd had to rescue from her own precocity on Therum.

Liara offered her a small smile. "And you as well." Her gaze darted to Ashley. "And you, Chief Williams." Shepard threw her a sharp glance. She'd wondered how much of Ashley's teasing Liara had picked up on aboard the SR-1. The Shadow Broker most likely knew all about Ashley's promotion.

"It's Lieutenant Commander now."

"My mistake. Congratulations." Liara's smile fell. "I wish we could meet in better circumstances, but I'm afraid we need to hurry. It looks as if we may have been pre-empted. The colony lost contact with the dig site a few hours ago." She gestured to the man at her side. "This is Mr. Hernandez, who liaises between the colonial government and the excavations."

Shepard stepped forward and offered her hand. Hernandez paused momentarily before shaking. "Mr. Hernandez. What can you tell me about the situation?"

Hernandez spoke levelly, but there was a tension under his words that sounded close to panic. "Ever since the attack, we require the excavation team to check in periodically. Normally it's only twice a day, but if they've uncovered something that might attract unwelcome attention, the protocol is every hour. The alarm hasn't sounded, but they've missed the last three check-ins. The local garrison's stationed teams around the perimeter, but we didn't want to storm the site and risk damaging the artifact or killing any survivors."

"Do you know what exactly they found?"

Hernandez let out a breath and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I know it was big, but I don't know its exact nature."

Shepard watched him. She didn't think he was lying. After the disaster that had struck the colony when the Beacon had been unearthed, it wouldn't be strange if the colonial government and the excavation's investors chose to suppress information on any new findings as much as possible. She cut her eyes to Liara, and received a minute shake of her head in return.

"All right. We'll go in quiet and extract the artifact. We'll do what we can for any of your people we come across, but I can't make any promises."

Hernandez exhaled, a little shakily. "Right. Right. Just... Commander." A little steel crept into his voice, a thin edge of anger concealed under the words. "Don't let it turn out like last time. This colony's recovered since Saren's attack. I don't think we could do it a second time."

At her back, she heard the heavy sound of Ashley shifting her weight. "Noted, Mr. Hernandez. Do you have a map of the site?"

He nodded curtly and pulled up the model on his omni-tool.

The archaeologists' camp stood at the edge of a crescent-shaped cliff overlooking the ruins of a Prothean city. The terrain around it was gently rolling, dotted with the occasional sparse copse of trees, but providing little cover. The tramway terminated at the heart of the encampment in a small courtyard.

"Liara. Any insight to offer?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. I was only here once before, months ago. These here and here," she pointed to the buildings surrounding the tram station, "are administrative buildings."

_Large space, centrally located, easy to keep an eye on. If there are hostages, that's where they're likely to be._

Liara continued, indicating a smaller building on a small rise at the camp's perimeter. "This is security."

"How well-secured is the camp?" she asked Hernandez. "Is that just a checkpoint, or is there a surveillance system in place?"

"There is a surveillance system," he admitted, "but camera coverage of the camp is limited due to privacy concerns. Public spaces are watched, but not the workers' quarters."

"Liara. Any idea where our artifact would be?"

"The most likely location is one of the warehouses, here at the western end of the camp."

_Opposite end of the camp from security. Damn._ "Mr. Hernandez, who's the commanding officer for the garrison troops?"

"That's Lieutenant Sullivan. I'll call him over."

Sullivan was a large man with squinty eyes and a slight limp. He saluted once he got close.

"Commander Shepard. How can we assist?"

"Where are your teams stationed?"

He marked the locations on the map. Four teams, roughly evenly spaced about the camp's perimeter, plus the team at the tram station. Shepard inspected the map once more, but the terrain left them with few options.

"All right. Here's what we'll do. My team will approach the east end of the camp, following this ridge." She ran a finger along the hologram of a slight hill angled past the campsite. "We'll stay out of sight as long as possible and attempt to retake the security office without attracting undue attention. Sullivan, once I give the all-clear, we'll move your Team Beta up to hold security while we proceed to the artifact. Priority is to extract the artifact, but we're going to have to play it by ear once we're there."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

"All right. Let's move."

They set out for the camp on foot, hugging the lee of the long ridge that would bring them past Team Beta's position and pass close by security.

As they walked, while they were still out of earshot, she took the opportunity to question Liara.

"Liara. Any idea what this thing is?"

"I'm honestly not sure. I'd been dealing with... other matters, and hadn't kept up with the news on the excavation. They requested me because they needed a late Prothean language expert, but normally they should be able to provide that themselves. They may have been more interested in my experience with the Beacon through you."

Shepard grunted in acknowledgment, and they continued on, an ear to the garrison's radio chatter. Another Beacon would be a find worth Cerberus' time, but something about this tasted wrong. A team trying to steal an artifact should have gotten in and out quickly, not held the camp for three hours.

_Well, it won't be the first blind mission with a nasty surprise I've done._

They were fast approaching the camp, and had to move carefully now. They passed Team Beta's position with a careful exchange of radio and handsigns, and ended up crouched behind the security building. There were two visible guards in Cerberus armor by the side of the door, and her omni-tool picked up another heat signature on the far side of the building, as well as two more inside. No others close enough to pick up.

"Liara, on my signal, drop a singularity on top of the building. Pin them down for me. James, Ash, take out the two on the door, quick and quiet. James, you take right, Ash left. Move inside on my command. I'll take the one on the other side. We all clear?"

"Aye aye, ma'am."

"All right. Vega, Williams, move up with me. Carefully."

Cautiously, they inched their way to the lowest point of the ridge, barely out of sight. Their luck held, and the men at the door remained focused on Team Beta's position. She checked James and Ashley, found them ready. Liara hung back in cover, watching her.

"Now, T'Soni."

There was the subsonic, bone-deep hum of active biotics and a choked shout from inside the building, and the men at the door snapped back hard against the building's walls. She motioned James and Ash, and they executed them with two clean shots. Shepard rose and darted for the building, letting the singularity help pull her up the slope. She spoke into the comm as she went.

"Singularity down, T'Soni. Vega, Williams, move inside. Keep one alive, if you can."

With a faint electric prickle that raised the hair on her arms, the pull dissipated, and Shepard skidded to the corner of the building, flattening herself against the wall. Behind her, she heard the door hiss open. A quick look around corner revealed no additional enemies in sight. The man at the back of the building slumped up against the wall, motionless. Pistol in hand, she jammed it into his temple, but the odd movement of his head stopped her. She had been lucky; the singularity had snapped his neck. There was a muffled crack and groan, and then a series of dull impacts from inside the building.

"All clear, Commander," came Ashley's voice over the comm.

"Roger that, Williams. T'Soni, move up and get inside and out of sight."

"On my way."

Shepard hooked her hands under the dead man's arms and dragged him to the back of the building, out of sight of casual observers in the camp. She met Liara coming up the slope, and they went in together.

Inside, they found Ash watching the door, while James stood guard over a disarmed Cerberus soldier. He still wore armor, but from the line of his arm, something between elbow and collarbone was broken badly. Another body lay still in the corner, thin runnels of blood still trickling sluggishly from the ragged hole at the join of throat armor and helmet.

"Good work, everyone." Shepard nodded to the terminals lining one wall. "Liara, see what you can learn from those. James, get the bodies out of sight. Ash, you're our look-out." She turned to the man on the floor just as he tensed up and made an abortive motion with his good hand toward his head. She knew that gesture, and so did every soldier who'd ever used a shitty in-ear comm. Coolly, she pressed the pistol into the underside of his chin, hard enough to force his head back up against the wall.

"You're going to tell them things are under control."

He froze, and she felt him swallow against the gun. She pushed a little harder, and a shudder ran through him, but he answered the comm in an almost normal tone of voice.

"Situation normal. One of their teams tried to made a move." He paused, and she watched him carefully, looking for any change in his body language. "Yes, sir," he said after a moment. When he said nothing further, she pulled the pistol back slightly.

"Take off the helmet."

Clumsily, he reached up with the uninjured arm and undid the seals. The helmet slid free, and she nearly pulled the trigger at the dead eyes and familiar lines of cybernetics tracking down his face.

"God," she heard Ash hiss behind her. "He's a husk."

He flinched back, and some part of her mind registered that the face underneath the cybernetics was young, perhaps early to mid twenties. Just a kid, probably full of dumb ideas about fighting for humanity. _Cerberus has a lot to answer for,_ she thought grimly. She motioned with the pistol, and said aloud, "Start talking. How many of you are there?"

He swallowed. "We're just a single squad."

"Numbers, soldier."

"Twenty. Four teams."

"Where are the others now?"

"One team at the main office. The others are at the warehouse."

Liara glanced over their way. "That appears to be accurate, Shepard. I cannot see any others, although the camera coverage here is limited. Some of the workers are still alive and being held in the main office."

She skinned her lips back from her teeth in a tight smile. "Good man. You stay honest, you may just get out of this alive. How did your squad take control of this site without the alarm being sounded?"

"We had a mole. Dr. Coré. She took care of security and let us in." His voice was shaking a little now, shock setting in.

She caught Liara's eye across the room. "That name ring a bell, Liara?"

"No. She's most likely a recent addition to the site."

She took one last look at the kid's ruined face and stood. "Ash. Watch him."

"Aye aye, ma'am." She stepped forward, expression dark, and Shepard headed over to the terminals.

"What have you got, Liara?"

She pointed to an image of two men in Cerberus armor carefully taking omni-tool readings off a long, rectangular object. "I'd guess this is the artifact we're looking for. Something's wrong, though. They're not attempting to move it."

"This is in the warehouse? Can we get a view of the rest of the room?"

"Right away." The view backed out, and now they could see a slight, dark-haired woman leaning motionless over a terminal filled with what looked like static. Liara leaned closer, watching the screen with an intrigued, slightly open-mouthed expression.

"I've never seen anything like that," she breathed. "It looks like they're trying to send a signal to it – it must be intact."

_Shit._ "If they're trying to bring it online, we're going to have to move fast. Do you have a view of the outside of the warehouse?"

"One moment, Shepard."

An outdoor view of the warehouse showed a nest of guards surrounding the warehouse, hidden behind an array of barriers. The spiny profile of a turret loomed over the roof's edge.

_Those turrets will mow us down before we can get close enough to any damage. What I wouldn't give for a good sniper._ Maybe she'd tell Garrus about this later. Or maybe not – he'd be insufferably smug for weeks. The turrets had to go, and without a sniper, finesse wasn't on the table. Shepard examined her team one at a time, weighing her options.

"Ash, you still like your grenades?"

"Never know when you might need them, Commander," came the straight-faced reply.

"Think your arm's good enough to get one on that roof if we can get you close enough?"

"Spent all my summer vacations playing softball, ma'am."

"All right. Here's how we'll play it." She called up the map on her omni-tool. "We'll advance to this point. Liara, you'll set Ash up with a barrier and James and I will provide cover fire. Get in, get a couple of grenades up there, and fall back, fast as you can. We'll hit the guys on the ground with everything we've got. You with me?"

"Aye aye, ma'am."

"Good." Shepard opened the comm channel. "Team Beta, security is clear. Be advised we have a prisoner. Move up and hold position. Give us a heads up on any incoming reinforcements."

"Copy that, ma'am. On our way."

"Team Delta, move up to nav point 20-45-13.54 N 140-38-23.27 W. Proceed with caution, enemy turrets up ahead. Standby to assist on my command."

"Acknowledged."

"Alpha and Gamma, advance with caution. Things will get exciting in a few minutes. Civilian hostages in the main office – if the opportunity presents, this may be your best chance to get them out."

"Yes ma'am."

They handed the security outpost off to Beta team without incident and edged their way through the camp, keeping to cover wherever possible and staying out of line of sight of the administrative buildings at the camp's center. They ended crouched at the rear of a building perhaps 200 meters away from the warehouse. The terrain here worked in their favor, the dense warren of outbuildings providing ample cover, but the turrets' height would negate that advantage once they came into sensor range.

She signed to James. _You take right, I'll go left,_ and signaled Liara to bring up the barrier on Ashley, and they carefully edged their way out to a position that brought the men on the ground into their sights.

"Delta, are you in position?"

"Ready and waiting, ma'am."

"Give us a distraction."

"Aye aye, Commander."

There was a rattle of gunfire from the other side of the warehouse and then the heavy stutter of the turret, followed by a shout. The guards on their side of the building startled and dropped behind their barriers, and a few turned to follow the noise.

"Now, Williams!"

Ashley shot past her, the thick skin of Liara's biotics surrounding her as she darted between patches of cover. Methodically, Shepard swept her rifle across the line of guards, pouring fire into anything that crept out of cover. At the other side, James did the same, calmly and competently, she noted. Above, the turret swiveled to track Ash, and Shepard cursed.

"Brace for impact, Liara."

A breathy "Yes, Commander," came in over the comm, and Shepard readied herself to charge out there and retrieve Ashley if necessary, but the impact never came. Instead, James, in a moment of supreme, reckless stupidity, stepped fully out of cover and took a couple of pot-shots at the turret, which turned to fix on him.

"Get _down_, Vega!" she barked into the comm, as Ashley seized the opportunity to sprint to the last piece of cover and lob two grenades onto the roof. They all ducked as far into cover as they could, and a moment later there were two deafening bangs and the whistle of shrapnel. Cautiously, she lifted her head to inspect the damage. The turrets smoked, twisted and silent, and she felt an ugly smile, all teeth, cross her face.

"Turrets are down, Delta. Take 'em out." She caught the eyes of each of her team members in turn. "Let's go," she barked.

The next few minutes were a familiar blur of gunfire and biotics. Without the turret lashing out at them from above, this kind of fight was nothing she hadn't done before with Liara and Ashley. James, she noted, acquitted himself well, despite that previous moment of outstanding idiocy. Fire rang out on the other side of the warehouse as the other team followed suit. In a few short, bloody minutes, they'd cleared the guards and rendezvoused with Delta, who'd sustained only minor casualties. She stepped up and shook the hand of their leader, a small woman with a tight grip and a big gun, and then signaled to her team.

"We're going in. Delta, watch our backs."

She nodded to Ash, and they flanked the door, weapons trained on the entrance. She waited a moment while the other members of her team fell into cover, and then she punched the door control. The door slid open with a hiss, but there was no other sound from the interior. It was dim inside, lights only set to half intensity, but she could make out the two men they'd seen from the camera crouched at the back of the artifact. At the far side of the room, the woman still stood motionless in front of the terminal.

"This is the Alliance. We have the building surrounded. You have one chance at this. Come out slowly, with your hands where I can see them."

There was a tense moment of quiet, and then one of the men stood slowly, hands raised. His companion hesitated briefly, looking once at the woman, who made no sign of having heard, before following suit. They made it perhaps three steps towards the door before two swift shots rang out and they fell, neat holes drilled through their temples. The woman at the terminal faced them now, pistol still in hand.

Anger pounded in Shepard's chest like a second heartbeat. _Damn it. Shouldn't have figured her for just a civilian._ She spoke over the barrel of her rifle. "Dr. Coré, I presume."

"Commander Shepard." There was something wrong with her voice. "I have a message for you."

"Save it for the judge, doctor."

A hologram flickered to life between them. The Illusive Man took a long drag on his cigarette as he regarded her. "That wouldn't be wise, Shepard."

"You," she said flatly. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"And you know I'm not going to give it to you."

"You should reconsider. This artifact," he gestured, "is unique. One of a kind. It may contain information vital to fighting the Reapers. In the Alliance's hands, it'll rot in some laboratory. If we want to win this war, bold action is required. We have our differences, but you know firsthand that Cerberus can accomplish great things."

"'Great things?' I've seen your work. I saw what you did to the soldiers you sent here."

The hand with the cigarette waved dismissively. "They were improved. Don't let your squeamishness cloud your judgment."

"Go to hell."

He regarded her impassively. "Don't misunderstand me, Shepard. I'm not interested in your approval." He took another drag on the cigarette and paused to exhale a cloud of smoke. "In the grand scheme of things, you and I have a common goal: we want to eliminate the threat posed by the Reapers." He leaned forward, eyes intent, and for a moment, it was easy to see why this man could lead so many of humanity's best and brightest down such a radical path. "But that doesn't go far enough. Humanity's greatest strength has always been our ability to turn unfavorable circumstances to our advantage. Thwarting the Reaper invasion is a minimal solution. A lazy solution that leaves us no better situated than we were before. But if instead of wasting our resources fighting them, we could control them…"

Her eyes narrowed. "No one controls a Reaper."

"Not yet. But it can be done. Think of what we stand to gain!"

"'To gain?' Don't make me laugh. At best, it's a waste of time. At worst, you'll hand us over to the Reapers yourself."

He crushed the cigarette into an ashtray off-screen. "Your conviction is admirable, but misplaced. You'll soon come to see things my way, as you did before. You're too good a leader not to."

Simultaneously, the hologram blinked out, and Coré spun around to the terminal, hand raised and omni-tool active. Before she could do any damage, Ashley plowed into her, throwing her off-balance. The doctor struck like a snake, a series of heavy blows that took Ash by surprise and laid her into the wall.

"Liara! Singularity, now! Keep her away from that terminal!"

The singularity pulsed into existence behind Coré, dragging her back into the center of the room. Grimly, Shepard took aim at her shoulder, intending to disable her. The shot struck home, and she watched in disbelief as the doctor raised her arm against the singularity's field despite the hit, aiming her pistol at the terminal.

_What the hell. No one should be able to do that._

She shifted her aim to the hand holding the pistol and fired. The doctor's arm jerked under the impact and Coré's shot went wide, but she did not drop the gun.

She cursed and exchanged a look with James.

"Take her out."

They both fired, aiming for head and neck this time, and occasionally arms when Coré made yet another impossible attempt to use her gun. The doctor made no noise at all during the fight. It took many more shots that it should have to bring her down. When she finally stopped moving, they kept their weapons trained on her for the space of a few heartbeats, not trusting the stillness. Finally, she nodded to James.

"Keep an eye on her. Make sure there are no last minute surprises." With that, she moved off to where Ashley slumped against the wall. She'd sat up at some point during the fight, but hadn't moved since. As she went, she keyed open her comm. "Situation under control, Delta. Does anyone on your team have medical training? We have a casualty."

"Sending someone over now."

She knelt down in font of Ashley. "You all right there, Ash?"

She got a cough and a weak hand wave in return. "My ribs took a beating, but I'll live."

"She got you a good one upside the head too. Stay down and don't move around. There's a medic on the way."

"Yes ma'am."

After a moment, she sighed and stood. _Nothing I can do here._ She spoke into the comm again. "Alpha, Gamma, what's your status?"

"Administration buildings are secured, ma'am. We lost two of the scientists, but most are still alive."

"Good work."

The next hour brought an influx of Alliance reinforcements, followed by local administrative and medical personnel. The camp became a hive of nervous activity. They cordoned off the warehouse, leaving Shepard and her team to stand guard over the artifact they'd come for. Two EMTs had carried Ashley out on a stretcher, headed off to the Normandy's med bay. They'd taken Coré's body aboard the Normandy as well; an android that could pass as human would interest Alliance command. Now, Shepard stood at the foot of the artifact with James at her side, while Liara hunched over the terminal, talking with one of the less-shaken scientists.

James watched her, his expression strange. At last he spoke. "Your missions always like this, Commander? Not that I'm complaining, but this was pretty lively."

"Usually, we don't have backup," she responded drily, before giving him a hard stare. "What was that stunt you pulled with the turret? You got a death wish, Lieutenant?"

He shrugged. "Just doing my job, ma'am."

"Bullshit. Don't do that again." She opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by Liara.

"Shepard! Could you come over here a moment, please?"

"I'll be right there." She turned back to James before heading over. "We'll have words on this later, Lieutenant."

The terminal still showed the same static-y mess they'd seen before, but this close, she could make out flashes of movement, like watching a scene through a sheer curtain. Liara turned to face her, eyes alight.

"Shepard, this is incredible! This isn't a Prothean artifact – it's a Prothean."

She blinked, startled. "A Prothean? Alive?"

Liara nodded rapidly. "Yes. This is like the stasis pods we saw on Ilos – it's been damaged, but there are life signs from inside. However, they're unstable – we must open it quickly, before the pod shuts down entirely."

Shepard let out a breath. Prothean or not, releasing an unknown alien into a camp that had just evicted a hostile force was low on her list of good ideas. _But what other choice is there? We can't afford to lose such a potential resource._ And she couldn't say she wasn't curious. That space in the back of her mind where the Cipher slept saw the world differently, in stark, bold lines. She'd seen it most clearly in the Beacon's visions, but it still crept out in strange, unexpected ways in some of her dreams.

"So what's the delay?" she asked Liara. "I'd think you'd leap at the chance to meet a real, live Prothean."

"Oh, I would! Think of everything he could tell us! He's slept here for 50,000 years – perhaps they chose to send their foremost scientist to the future, like on Ilos. Or maybe their greatest statesman, or their wisest councilor..." She drifted off, eyes wide, before coming back to herself with a faint jolt. "But we need to know how to end the pod's stasis mode and open it without damaging it further. If we try to open it by force, we may kill him. They found video with the pod, but we can't make anything of it. I was hoping that the Cipher might let you see something we can't."

"Are you sure it's not just corrupted?" she asked, eying the terminal skeptically.

"As sure as we can be. It appears to be intact, and there's definitely a signal in there."

"All right. I'll give it a shot."

She stepped up to the screen, watching the flashes of movement inside the noise, listening to the faint echoes of speech in the static. Almost without thought, she reached out a hand to adjust the view, and then, suddenly, she had the trick of it, like seeing through an optical illusion.

_Protheans, both like and unlike the Collectors, fighting their way through the streets of a strange complex, barely holding back a horde of opponents. A dying stronghold, falling rapidly under the enemy's advance, its people scrambling their way to stasis pods and the slim, sharp hope of survival and vengeance. A commander, making the bitter sacrifice of civilians to save those who could return to fight. _

Shepard stepped back, shaking her head, disturbed. _That could be us. Will be us, if we don't prepare for this._ Liara gripped her shoulder gently.

"Shepard, are you all right? Did you see anything?"

She snapped out of the last of it, tearing away from the ghosts of old anger and defeat. "I'm fine Liara. I saw them opening the pods and sending the signal to put them in stasis. I think I can replicate it."

Liara's hand squeezed her shoulder gently before retreating. "Incredible," she said, a little wistfully. "All I saw was static."

She clasped Liara's shoulder in return. "Come on, doctor. Let's give the others a heads-up, and then we'll let the genie out of the bottle."

"What?"

"Old human story. I'll tell you later."

Soon, non-essential personnel were cleared from the area, and she, James, and Liara stood clustered around the lifepod. She opened her omni-tool interface, and carefully replicated the signal she'd seen in the video. Nothing appeared to have changed, but the pod suddenly emitted a low hum, almost beyond the edge of her hearing. The all stepped back cautiously, and the hum gradually died away. She caught her comrades eyes, and they all stepped forward again, crowding around the pod as she opened the control panel and carefully touched the strange symbols to open it. Its doors slid open with a hiss and a cloud of escaping vapor, and she leaned in close to look.

At first, she thought he might be dead after all. He was coated in a thin frost, and lay still and unmoving. But the frost melted gradually, and all at once, he gasped a breath. The four eyes blinked, weirdly unsynchronized, and he groaned. She partly turned, motioning Liara and James back to give him some space. Mid-wave, she caught a sharp movement in her peripheral vision, and a moment later something slammed into her temple like a hammer and she went skidding across the warehouse floor. A bright burst of biotics followed, and her companions joined her.

Dazed, she struggled to sit up, dizzy from the head blow. Around her, she could hear the others stirring as well. The Prothean clambered unsteadily out of his pod, and she reached out a hand toward him and cried out for him to stop, but he stumbled onward, making for the warehouse doors. She scrambled to her feet, head blow be damned, and lurched after him, desperate to stop him before he made his way out into the camp and got himself shot full of holes. The warehouse doors opened before him, and he stopped, frozen, like he'd died right there on his feet, leaning heavily against the door frame. She caught up to him, and immediately realized why. Over his shoulder, she could see into the dig site, the ruins of the bunker she'd seen in the video, swallowed up by Eden Prime's earth and the scattered, incongruous shapes of the archaeologists' shelters. The breath left her as she imagined what it must be to see the corpse of everything you'd known spread out at your feet like this. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to his shoulder. No sooner had her fingers closed on the armor, than another vision took her.

_The same commander from before – the man in front of her, she now understood - tasting the ashes of victory, as the neutron purge scoured the bunker's surface and drilled through the automated reactivation systems. Isolated in the coffin-like space of his lifepod, furiously arguing with the VI as it calmly informed him that his soldiers' lives would be sacrificed to save his. And last, a grim oath, spoken alone in the darkening pod as sleep took him._

She and the Prothean both stumbled away from the contact. After a moment, he spoke.

"How many others?"

She felt a stab of pity. "Just you." She cleared her throat. "You can speak my language?"

His reply was weary, dismissive. "I read it when you touched me."

"'Read it?' Then what I saw..."

"Our last moments. A failure."

"You fought to the end."

He turned to face her, expression alien and unreadable. Behind her, she could hear Liara and James approaching. Almost under his breath, the Prothean muttered incredulously. "Human and asari. Primitives. I am surrounded by primitives."

_Charming._ Shepard kept her face neutral. "Primitive or not, we could use your experience now."

With a minute shake of his head, he refocused, all four eyes disconcertingly meeting her own. "You fight the Reapers?"

"Yes."

"Then we shall see."

.

.

.

AN: Once again, thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading.


	5. Chapter 5

The Venaxa Weapons Research and Development facility was dug into the frigid rock and ice of Datriux, Trebia's sixth planet. It was a barren place, littered with ancient mining equipment and cloaked in a tattered wisp of nitrogen atmosphere. The facility's existence and location were secret. Technically, Garrus shouldn't have known anything about it, much less been allowed to visit. He owed Victus big for this.

According to Paixa's information, Venaxa had been sending in regular reports, but dropped off the grid several weeks ago. It wouldn't have roused his interest, except that this was where much of Sovereign's corpse had come to rest. At least one other team had been sent to investigate, but after that the trail went cold. No amount of digging had been able to uncover the facility's current status.

He watched his team surreptitiously as the shuttle made its approach. He knew this mission would be a test. They'd done what he asked of them because those were their orders, but they didn't know him and had no reason to personally trust him. Of the four he was taking with him on this mission, three were his combat specialists, Narix, Aventus, and Phelax. The odd man out was Lycus, the most senior of his engineers.

Garrus could not decide whether it was trepidation or anticipation that was currently dumping adrenaline into his system by the bucket. The last time he'd led a combat team had been under Shepard, on that hellish run through the Collector base. They'd all been desperate and angry, and none of them had really expected to make it out. This kind of carefully planned mission had more in common with the work he'd done on Omega, especially back in the early days, when his team members were still unfamiliar.

Part of him was eager to see what this new team could do and understand how they would work together, but there was also a part that shied away from that responsibility. He'd made bad mistakes on Omega due to his inexperience and poor judgment. He only hoped he'd learned enough on this latest run under Shepard to make up the difference. He'd tried his best to watch what she was doing and understand why it worked, but he wasn't sure in the end that it was really applicable. People followed Shepard because she was Shepard. People followed Garrus because there wasn't anyone else to fill the gap.

"ETA?" he asked the pilot.

"Another ten minutes, sir."

"Hail them. Let them know we're coming."

The pilot opened the line and relayed their identification and approach, but only a hiss of static answered. She tried again, on one of the common military frequencies, but got the same result.

"Can't raise them."

"All right. Set us down as close as you can." No hope of approaching unnoticed on this flat, desolate plain. The best they could do was get in there fast. He turned to find the rest of his team watching the exchange tensely. "We don't know what we're going into down there. Stick close together and be ready to run."

He received a muted chorus of assents, and the shuttle touched down a few minutes later. Out of habit, he flicked his gaze up and to the right, triggering the video feed on his visor. They exited onto the still, silent surface undisturbed. In front of them, Venaxa loomed huge and dark against the glitter of Datriux's ice. They advanced cautiously, but they appeared to be alone and unnoticed, and in short order, they stood at the personnel entrance.

"Narix, Phelax, cover the door," he said brusquely, and opened up his omni-tool interface to override the lock. The door slid open, revealing a dark hallway, only emergency lights running. The automated security systems that should have have raised an alarm at his entrance remained silent.

"Sir, I don't like this," said Phelax, the oldest and most experienced of his team. Her stance was relaxed, but she didn't take her eyes off the end of the hall.

"Neither do I," he murmured. "You, me, and Aventus up front, Narix, rear guard. Lycus, if it comes to it, stick to covering fire and support only and don't draw attention to yourself."

"Yes, sir."

They moved off down the hallway, maintaining a brisk but wary pace. They passed several side doors leading to small storage rooms, which they opened and checked as they went, finding nothing of interest in any of them. The facility was eerily silent, but for their footfalls and the hum of the air system. At last, the hallway split in two. The right passageway sloped slightly downward, ending in another locked door, while the left lay open. A quick deployment of several jamming programs ensured that that locked door would remain locked behind them while they explored the left-hand path.

The passage led to a mess hall. The tables were clean, and there was no sign of movement in the room. When they checked the kitchen, they found the food in the powerless refrigeration unit rancid, but a large portion of the emergency rations missing.

They trailed through the abandoned mess and continued to a rec room. A variety of novels lay scattered on the low tables, and a half-finished game of parthium sat on one. Lycus blew a thin layer of dust off of it as he passed. "No one's been here for a while."

The sleeping quarters told the same story. Personal items lay undisturbed, coated in dust. No attempt had been made to pack or collect them.

"So," Garrus murmured to himself as they headed back to the fork in the hallway, "They make off with emergency rations, but nothing else. There's no sign of a struggle or panic. They just came in, grabbed the food, and got out."

"They couldn't have left the building without help," pointed out Lycus. "Their envirosuits are still here."

"They're likely holed up somewhere in here then," said Garrus. They had reached the locked door again. "I don't like the way this is headed. Stay alert and keep your shields up."

"Yes sir."

He shut down the jamming programs he'd put in place, and bypassed the original security without a hitch. This time, his team slid in around him to cover the door without him breathing a word. Another dark hallway opened up in front of them. All was still for a tense second, and then he heard a faint scrape of metal and saw the emergency lights slide across something in motion far away. He dove on reflex and flattened himself to the wall. The round clipped his shields as it passed, and Phelax and Aventus returned fire. With a curse, he keyed his visor for EM and immediately saw a half dozen white blurs flicker to life in the hallway. Mechs. Shut down, they hadn't generated a distinct heat signature for him to pick up.

"You all right, sir?"

"Fine. Mechs up ahead. Six by my count." He quickly took stock of the situation. Advancing down the hall would be suicide, and backing up wouldn't lure the mechs out like it might an overconfident sentient opponent. Their best best was to stay where they were, where the door frame at least provided them some cover. That left them pinned, shooting blindly at an enemy they could barely see.

Well, if he could fix one of those problems, the other might fix itself.

"Lycus, get down and shine a light down there. Narix, short the shields on the one in front. We'll take them down one at a time, nice and clean."

The mechs were based off one of the LOKI models, the workhorse of lazy security system designers all over the galaxy, and while they could be dangerous, they weren't very smart. The team operated smoothly and methodically, quickly finding a rhythm. Narix would call his target before he took out its shields, and then the three of them would concentrate fire on it.

Garrus watched the routine thoughtfully. This wasn't a real team, not yet, but the potential was there. He'd been wrong to compare this to Omega or Shepard's crew – this was more like his experience in the military and C-Sec. Everyone had the same training and knew their role. It made things fall into place more easily now, but that might change if they ran up against something standard training didn't cover. He felt himself grinning despite the unpleasant surprise of the mechs and the ruminations on his team – it was good to be holding a gun and doing what he knew again, and he felt more sure of himself now than he had since Fedorian had stuck him behind that desk.

When the mechs were all down, they moved up cautiously. They were silent, on the alert, now that they knew someone didn't want them here. The hall was lined with side doors, which they checked as they passed. Most led into prosaic labs filled with terminals and measuring equipment, or to rapid prototyping facilities. Two led to indoor firing ranges. In several, they found additional nests of mechs, which they took out with ease. Whoever had programmed them had done it haphazardly, with little regard for their placement or any thought to group tactics. That lack of expertise bothered him. It did not fit with the people who should be in this facility: researchers who'd made a career of developing and deploying weapons.

Midway down the hall, they found two cargo elevators labeled 'Hangar 1' and 'Hangar 2.' They took the one on the right side first. It took them up, and even though he was half-expecting it, Garrus felt a hiss boil behind his teeth when the door opened to reveal Sovereign's main gun, dwarfing the cavernous space it rested in. Up close, it was massive, running the entire length of the hangar, with its barrel eating up half the height. Its business end was clean and sharp, but the end which had rested deep within Sovereign's hull was ragged, as if the gun had been torn out by the roots. It lay on a series of enormous treaded pallets, and cables as thick as his arm snaked out the back of it to disappear into a forest of terminals enclosed in explosion-proof shielding. Phelax hissed out a slow breath at his side.

"Spirits."

"Sovereign's main gun," he replied soberly. "Full sweep of the hangar, and then see if you can make out what they were working on, Lycus."

Warily, they stepped into the open space of the hanger and began a circuit. His team was subdued. The hulk of the cannon above them breathed down their necks like a distant thunderstorm, and its powerful EM field made his plates on the side facing it twinge. The hangar was silent, but for the echo of their footfalls and the subliminal hum of the cannon. About halfway up its length, they found a smaller gun, a Thanix, like the ones he'd installed on the Normandy. It looked like a toy next to the real thing. They found nothing else of interest, and returned to the terminals tethered to the rear of the cannon. Lycus set to work, and the rest of them arrayed themselves around him uneasily, watching the elevator and the gun with equal trepidation.

After a while, Narix shook his head and stirred from where he'd been staring up at the cannon, breaking his customary silence. "The vids don't really convey how big that ship was."

Garrus' expression tightened, remembering that gauntlet they'd run up the tower, Sovereign's bulk blacking out the space ahead of them. "No," he said, "they don't."

"You were there, sir?" Aventus said. It was not really a question. For a brief time, his name and the names of the other ground crew had been in the Citadel news almost as much as Shepard's, and then that damnable action flick had come out.

"Yeah," he said, with a dry laugh. "You don't really forget something like that."

Phelax slowly shook her head. "No you don't," she returned soberly. Aventus made a noise of surprised inquiry, and she clarified. "I was on the _Dauntless_, serving in the Citadel fleet at the time." She got a nod of respect from the rest of them for that.

Narix ran his fingers contemplatively over a scratch on the barrel of his rifle. "Hardly seems real, even right up next to it."

The conversation was interrupted when Lycus made a frustrated noise and raised his head.

"Nothing out of the ordinary here, sir. It looks like they were trying to find a way to damp the kickback on the Thanix. With the original," he glanced upwards for a moment, "the mass of the gun and the ship are enough to keep it steady, but the miniaturized version tends to go skew after a shot."

"Not a problem with proper calibration," he returned absently. "Anything else?"

Lycus shook his head. "Nothing else about what they were doing in here. It's all fairly standard artillery tests." He paused, hand on one of the consoles. "But there is something strange about this, isn't there? They main power is out, but they're still running the research terminals and the cannons. That gun has a massive power draw – if their electrical system is down, they should have taken it offline. Why keep it up and running?"

Power cut to everything but life support and Reaper tech. Oh, yes, Garrus liked this less and less.

"Excellent question," he growled. "Let's keep going."

They crossed the hall and loaded themselves into the elevator for Hangar 2. This time, when the doors opened at the top, they were all expecting something on the scale of Sovereign's gun, and it still startled the hell out of him.

"Spirits damn me," hissed Aventus. "What the hell is that?"

It loomed perhaps twenty meters into the air ahead of them, and like the gun, it was broken at the edges, torn out by the root. It had too many limbs and too many eyes, and even with the hole through its torso and half its head gone, he couldn't bring himself to trust that it was completely dead. Garrus felt a stab of horror and pity for whatever long dead creatures had been slaughtered by the millions to make this thing, but it was mostly drowned out by the rush of ice up his back and the prickling at his elbows as the spines there hackled.

"That's a Reaper," he spat out, sub-tones buzzing with apprehension and aggression. Aventus turned to partly face him, expression incredulous, but at that moment, from the far shadows of the hanger, there was a flicker of motion, and a strange, mechanical warble and click. The team froze still at the noise, their attention instantly riveted to the far end of the room.

"Get into cover," he ordered quietly. "Don't shoot till we know what that is. And stay away from the Reaper." Silently, they obeyed, stealing into the paltry cover of the storage units flanking the elevator. Then all was quiet but for a steady clicking noise as whatever it was approached. Garrus' visor was still set to detect EM, but it wasn't picking up anything distinguishable from the background radiation of the Reaper. He cycled it back to infrared and found a bipedal blot of heat advancing steadily on them. Another joined it as it came even with the back of the Reaper, and then a third. His visor did not recognized their vitals. He settled his rifle into the pit of his shoulder guard.

"Three," he said quietly. "Coming up on our left. About forty meters."

Aventus leaned minutely out of cover, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruders. There was another electronic clicking noise and his shields flared as they caught a spray of fire. He jerked hastily back, and Garrus snarled. "Narix, shields thirty-eight meters dead ahead of you. Phelax, Aventus, take the one on the right."

As soon as he heard Narix's call of 'Shields down,' Garrus raised into a crouch, leaning his rifle across the crate and letting his shields take the fire for a moment while he found the enemy's head in his scope. The shot went true, and his opponent went down. The one on the right stumbled as Phelax's round found its torso, but rolled away into cover, the other following.

"Narix, Aventus, stay put and keep them pinned down," he spoke softly into the comm, hopefully too low for their opponents to hear. "Phelax, with me." Phelax on his heels, he crept to the far right of the storage unit and then darted across the open floor to the cover of a pallet truck. One of the enemy turned to follow him, but a burst of fire from Narix and Aventus sent it scrambling back into shelter. Phelax rolled into the pallet truck's shadow behind him. The dim throb of the emergency lighting cast their opponents into smears of shadow and occasional reflection in his un-visored eye. The fight was all but over: their new vantage gave the enemy nowhere to hide. The one that had shot at them as they moved was turned in a crouch to face them, clutching at its shoulder. Grimly, he shouldered his rifle and aimed for the head, following it up with another quick shot to the torso, taking no chances. At his side, he heard the report of Phelax's weapon as she did the same. Both enemies crumpled to the ground. He waited a beat, watching carefully for movement, but they did not stir and their vitals were rapidly tapering off in his visor.

"Clear," he called. "Remain on guard. Full sweep of the room."

They moved out quietly, tense and efficient. They checked every corner of the hangar, but found no more ambushes. What they did find set a chill of anger into his gut and an awful suspicion loose in his mind.

"Dragon's teeth," he said tightly, looking up at the spikes. Saren and the geth had left plenty of those in their wake. It had never occurred to him to wonder where they had gone. _We should have checked,_ he thought. _We left too many loose ends out there. _

"What?" Aventus blinked and shook his head.

"That's what they're called," he said. "It's from an old human story. A hero was tasked to sow dragon's teeth into the ground, like crops. As soon as they were planted, they grew into warriors who fought him." He'd looked up the story on the extranet when Shepard had told him the name. It made about as much sense as turian epics did.

"Apt," muttered Narix.

Garrus turned and paced back towards the hangar's entrance. "Let's take a closer look at our friends back there."

Phelax flexed her mandibles thoughtfully and gestured at the dragon's teeth. "You think these were used?"

He shook his head. "We haven't seen any turian husks, but maybe that's just because Saren was calling the shots before. There was definitely something wrong with the ones who just ambushed us. Their life signs were out of range for anything I've got programmed on here." He tapped the visor.

A hesitation, and then Aventus nodded his head. "Yeah. They didn't move right. And those noises didn't sound like anything I've heard before either."

The rest of his team exchanged glances and followed him back to the entrance. They gave a wide berth to the Reaper as they passed it, but he imagined he could feel its stare on his back all the same. With no enemies left in the hangar, he gave the order to turn on their lights. They reached the first of the bodies in short order. It was lying face-down on the ground, hand still clutching its rifle. Up close, it looked like any of the other turian corpses he'd seen, but for the seaming of cybernetics running up the back of its skull. He braced a hand under its shoulder and heaved it over onto its back. It was heavier than he'd expected it to be.

They all drew back with a collective hiss as it rolled over. Garrus swallowed. Its face was a mess of broken lenses and clear fluid where his round had punched a hole through its forehead. Both its original eyes were gone. The cybernetics that had been subtle on the back of its neck had consumed its throat entirely. He glanced down, but there was no sign of impalement. It was a husk, it had to be a husk, but not like any he'd seen. _This one was smart enough to use a weapon and communicate with its allies,_ he thought grimly.

"Check the others," he said, throat dry. "Lycus, get to work on those terminals."

They obeyed, and Garrus was left alone for the moment, staring up into the shadows at the Reaper – at Sovereign. It was a strange, cold feeling to look it in the eye, stripped of its protective hull. There was a scuff behind him as Aventus approached.

"The others are the same, sir." He paused looking upwards alongside Garrus, before continuing in a subdued voice. "That's really a Reaper? I thought they were ships."

"The incomplete human Reaper we found was like this. Our science officer thought that the ship would have eventually been built around it." Somehow, that hypothesis had done more to put the fear of Reapers in him than either Sovereign or Harbinger had. The idea that each of the ships had carried the seeds of some long-gone people, enslaved to their destroyers, was sickening.

Aventus' mandibles flickered out and back in. "So this is Sovereign's face."

"Yeah." He twitched one mandible in a lopsided grin without much real humor, eying the shattered edge of the metal skull. "Such as it is." He wondered if Saren had come face-to-face with this when he'd stepped into Sovereign's belly, or whether he'd been in the dark as to the Reaper's nature up to the very end. He waited a moment, but Aventus stayed silent, and eventually Garrus straightened and headed back to the terminals, Aventus trailing in his wake.

"What have you got, Lycus?"

"They were running a lot of tests on the... the Reaper, but it's not very organized. General spectral analysis and composition, energy flow, internal structure... It's mainly exploratory. It doesn't look like they were trying to _do_ anything with it per se."

"What about the dragon's teeth?"

Lycus nodded grimly. "Lots of interest in those. They took a few apart to analyze and had a lot of theories on infection pathways and progression." He took a deep breath. "It's pretty clear that they were interested in weaponizing this. The reports suggest that they may have proceeded to clinical trials."

Garrus eyed the corpses. "Given the evidence at hand, I'd say that's a reasonable assumption. Download everything you can. We'll move as soon as you're done."

"Yes sir."

After they'd descended from the hangar, he threw every jamming program he had into the elevator lock and they continued down the passage, subdued and wary. They continued checking doorways as they moved. They were all on edge now, but all they found was more prosaic research and occasional mechs. Finally, two thirds down the corridor, they came across another locked door. Phelax and Aventus flanked the doorway as he overrode the lock. As soon it opened, Garrus ducked to the side and a pulse of warning fire flew over their heads.

"Get out of here, Pallian!"

He exchanged a handsign with his team – _hold fire_ – and called back: "Hierarchy military. Stand down!"

There was a short silence before the reply. "Come out where I can see you. Slowly."

He exchanged a glance and another sign with his team and double-checked that his shields were at full before carefully stepping into the open. Unlike the rest of the facility, the room was bright, lit by portable lamps run by a generator in the back. The emergency rations that had been missing from the kitchen were piled along the back wall, and he counted sleeping bunks for six people. A man with the markings for Aeduca colony was crouched behind one of the room's desks, aiming a pistol at him.

"Special Advisor Garrus Vakarian, under command of General Victus."

Slowly, the other man straightened up, lowering the pistol. "Atrax Vadus, conventional weapons research group head."

"What happened here, Vadus?"

Vadus hesitated and then set the pistol down on the desk. "Get inside, and lock the door behind you." Garrus motioned to his team and they slipped in. Behind Vadus, several men and women warily eased themselves out of cover, each holding a weapon in hand. They looked exhausted, worn-down. There was no conversation among them as he did the lock, just a wordless quiet filled with the shuffling of people shifting their weight nervously. Once the door was locked, some of the tension seemed to leave them. Vadus took a deep breath.

"What took so long? We expected another team days ago."

Garrus looked back at him, keeping his voice calm and level. "We were hoping you could tell us. We know Venaxa went dark some time ago, and that a team was sent in. What we can't figure out is why nothing happened afterwards. What happened to that first team, Vadus?"

Vadus flinched and stared. "They didn't make it back?" he murmured.

"We're not sure. They're not logged MIA, but they didn't submit an official report on Venaxa either."

"They must have made it back," said Vadus. His voice was determined, but his hands were shaking. In a quieter voice, he continued. "They must have. Pallian wasn't so far gone, he wouldn't have…" He trailed off, apparently unaware that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Who is Pallian?"

Vadus came back to himself with a start. "He's the head of the facility and the leader of the unconventional weapons group. He's responsible for what happened here."

"I think you had better start from the beginning," said Garrus.

Vadus spoke slowly and reluctantly. "It started a little over a month ago. He started restricting messages to the outside. At first it was just his own group, then everybody. Then came the restrictions on our movements and the mechs. He questioned everybody. There's a precedent for that kind of security – it's happened before if someone suspects there's been a leak. But after about a week, I received a message from command requesting that I report in as they had received no report from Pallian. That's not SOP – this facility is required to maintain communications to Cipritine command under all circumstances. So I sent them a message and confronted Pallian about it."

"How did he react?"

Vadus shook his head and tensed his hands. "He just exploded. It came close to a physical fight. He told me that I'd ruined his work, that he'd known from the start that the conventional weapons group was trying to sabotage him, and that he'd get it done in time despite my interference."

Garrus lifted his head and let his mandibles slacken a bit to show his teeth. "I can take a pretty good guess on what he was working on from what we saw on the way in. But go ahead. Enlighten me."

Vadus flinched. "He was working on the husk conversion process. His original proposal suggested that if it could be adapted to a more subtle delivery method, it presented a viable way of sabotaging enemy cybernetics or inserting surveillance into enemy ranks. Later he grew interested in the potential for beneficial cybernetic enhancement."

_Like Saren,_ thought Garrus grimly. "What happened afterwards?"

"A team was sent to investigate him. They were here for about a week and they spent most of their time talking to him and his group in their labs."

Garrus' eyes narrowed in thought. _They spent time in the labs. With what's left of Sovereign._

Vadus continued. "I thought they'd left at the end of the week, but I was sure there would be a follow-up investigation coming. Pallian backed off a little while they were here, but he was clearly deteriorating and after they were gone he was increasingly unstable. He set up his equipment in the basement and forbade the conventional weapons group from entering. After a while, some of his group stopped showing up for meals."

Garrus watched the other man carefully as he probed. "There must be protocols for that kind of situation. Why didn't you follow them? Why did you allow this to go on?"

Vadus' mandibles clamped tight to his face, looking miserable, but he looked him in the eye as he replied. "You have to understand. A lot of what he did is within the Director's power, it's just rarely exercised. The investigation team hadn't seen fit to remove him immediately, so I had to trust their judgment. When people started disappearing, I confronted him again and demanded he tell me where they were. I said I'd send the alarm to command if he didn't come clean. That's when he shut down the power." He took a deep breath. "At that point, we all went down there and stormed his labs to try and get communications back up. That's when we first saw what he'd been doing. The husks. They chased us out. We got up here and locked the elevator, and that's when we set up in here. We knew someone would be sent if we just waited long enough."

"I see," said Garrus.

Vadus shifted uneasily. "Look, you've got to get us out of here. I know what's happened here is an atrocity, but all of us worked on the conventional weapons side of things. None of us had any involvement with the husks. I swear on my clan's patron that we had nothing to do with Pallian's research. You have to take us out of this place."

Garrus shook his head. "It's not safe out there. We'll head down to the basement and deal with whatever's down there. Stay put for now."

Vadus didn't look happy, but he subsided. "I – yes. Of course."

"We'll lock the door behind us, give you another layer of security just in case. And if we don't come back, someone will come to investigate soon." At least, he hoped so.

Vadus nodded tensely after a moment. "Thank you. Good luck."

They retreated from the room, and true to his word, Garrus jammed the door behind him. Wordlessly, they set out for the elevator at the end of the hall. No one spoke, but the tension was palpable.

"Be ready," he said as he opened the elevator. They assented and followed him in, all of them pressed against the walls, watching the doors as the lift dropped. There was a breath of quiet as the elevator hit the ground with a grinding jar, and then the door slid open and a hail of gunfire thundered into the cab, holing the back wall and tearing at the edges of their shields. Beyond the door lay a long room, dotted with desks and examination tables. More of the husks crouched behind the tables, laying down a storm of suppressive fire.

"Aventus, flashbang on my signal. You, Narix, and Lycus provide covering fire. Phelax, we'll take the nearest desk."

Aventus extracted the grenade and waited. "Yes sir."

"Eyes down. Aventus, go!"

The grenade rolled out of the elevator and a second later there was a sound like a thunderclap and a sear of white at the corner of his eye. The enemy's fire paused, and he signed to Phelax and the others. He and Phelax darted across the open space, heading for the nearest desk. The husk crouched on the other side of it took aim at them, and he put on a burst of speed, barely managing to snag it by the cowl. He heaved it across the desk and down to the ground and put his assault rifle up against its temple and held down the trigger. At his side, Phelax added to the suppressing fire pinning the husks down behind their desks.

"Move up!" he called to the others, and joined Phelax while Aventus' group sped to the open desk at the other side of the room.

They leapfrogged up the room, mowing down the husks as they went. There hadn't been that many of them, and once they'd gained the initiative, it was relatively easy to keep it. Garrus was peripherally aware that at some point a shot had grazed the outside of his elbow, making the inside of his gauntlet slippery with blood, but the end of the room and the figure crouched behind the last examination table held his attention too tightly for it to distract him.

Aventus' group made it to the end first, and there was a brief struggle, ending with Narix holding the stranger at gunpoint. His breathing was loud in the still aftermath of the fight. Garrus stalked up to him, keeping an eye on his hands.

"Director Pallian, I presume."

Pallian stared at him, eyes wide. "I know you. You were with Shepard." He lurched forward, but Narix motioned with the rifle and he froze. _"What did you do?"_

Garrus kept his posture nonchalant. "You tell me. What _did_ I do?"

Pallian snarled. "Don't play dumb with me! They should have been here by now! What did you do?"

He blinked, the timing coming together in his head. _Bahak. Venaxa had gone dark around the same time Bahak had._ Grimly, he replied. "They're not coming, Pallian. Shepard stopped them."

Pallian lunged at him with an incoherent shout, and Aventus dove forward to put his arms into a joint lock as Narix pushed his rifle into his throat. Pallian's voice came out broken, almost a keen. "They would have made them better." He was staring at the husk corpses, and Garrus felt his stomach slowly turn over. "They would have made all of us better!" His main voice rose, sub-tones splitting and wavering behind it, but his eyes locked onto Garrus'. "They're coming. They'll make you pay!"

Garrus stooped down to Pallian's level and stepped forward into his space, letting his teeth show. Pallian, whatever he might have been once, was nothing but a rat now, and he'd learned to deal with rats in C-Sec and on Omega.

"I don't think so, Director. Shepard stopped them twice, and she only needed one ship to do it. Now we have a fleet. Third time's the charm, as the humans say."

Pallian exploded into incoherent curses, and Garrus stepped away and nodded to Aventus and Narix. "Keep an eye on him."

At the back corner of the room, Lycus waved to get his attention. "Sir! Breakers for the facility are over here."

He strode over, sidestepping the outflung arm of a husk. "Give us lights and comms."

"Yes sir."

In a few moments, the comm system was back online and he hailed the _Relentless_. "Vakarian, reporting in, do you copy?"

"We read you loud and clear, sir. What's your status?"

"Hostiles eliminated. Send down a biohazard squad for clean-up and then quarantine this place, drone-only guard." He let his gaze drift across the room, looking at the scattered corpses of the husks, reminding himself that they had been people only a short while ago. In the background, Pallian had not given up on his string of invective. He thought of Vadus' people, huddled together in the dark hiding from the monsters outside their door. And then he thought of Sovereign's corpse resting above their heads._ It's been here over two years. They're indoctrinated even if they don't know it yet. They have to be contained._ Shepard might have found a better way, but he wasn't Shepard. _The whole war will be like this,_ he thought, sickened.

"Send another squad as well," he said. "We have seven prisoners for maximum security."

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AN: Thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading, and thanks to everyone who's reading. All the encouragement is very much appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

The _Normandy_ hummed with a subtle excitement. Shepard wasn't yet familiar with this crew, and the _Normandy_ herself had had no part in the mission on Eden Prime, but a successful assignment was always a morale booster.

The excitement was encouraged by the presence of the Prothean. There had been no discreet way to bring him on board, and the rumors were already flying thick and fast. Shepard had sent him to the port cargo hold along with a group of close-lipped crewman and Liara. It was quiet and out of the way. Hopefully, the space would be sufficient to avoid misunderstandings with the crew, but she had an uneasy feeling about the whole business. 50,000 years was a long time. How much had changed since then? Could he adapt? Would he be willing to? Or would he resent their usurpation of his people's place in the galaxy?

Shepard shook her head. She would leave him be for now. Pressing him while he was still off-balance and disoriented likely wouldn't end well. In the meantime, she made the rounds of her ship. The new crew were friendly, but so far lacked the uncomfortable hero worship that had dogged her on the first _Normandy_. They had likely been chosen for that quality among others - if she were to go rogue, this crew would not stand by her blindly. She would need to earn their trust. So she made her rounds and took note of their names and asked for their suggestions and opinions. None of these people would be confiding their life stories or even sharing casual small talk with her any time soon, but this was how that trust started.

She worked her way through the ship from top to bottom, avoiding the cargo hold and the Prothean for now. At the end, she found herself in the shuttle bay. She stepped from the elevator and watched from a distance, momentarily surprised. Ashley, James, and Steve Cortez were in a loose huddle in front of the Kodiak, Ash seated gingerly, cradling her broken ribs. Vega and Cortez were thick as thieves, so that was no surprise, but Ash's inclusion was startling. On the SR-1, she'd been a model soldier, and casually friendly with the rest of the crew, but not given to spending her downtime in the bull sessions that were a routine part of ship life. Shepard had suspected that it had to do with the stigma of her grandfather's legacy. Ash had known that she was being watched carefully, and had kept her behavior scrupulously professional at all times.

As she approached, Ash leaned in towards James, a finger pointed at his chest.

"Look, I get it. Don't do it again."

Shepard quickened her pace. "Is there a problem here?"

They all turned to attention and faced her. To her surprise, it was James who answered.

"No ma'am. The Commander was offering some tactical advice."

Ashley cleared her throat, meeting her gaze somewhat sheepishly. "Bullshit, ma'am. I was reaming him out for that stunt with the turret today."

James met her eyes. "Look, she's right and you were right, ma'am. It was a stupid thing to do. It won't happen again."

She nodded slowly. "Glad to hear it, James. I need all the good soldiers I can get. Pointless self-sacrifice isn't a virtue I endorse."

He grimaced. "Understood."

"Good." She turned to face Ashley, whose lips were a thin tense line. "Step over here a minute, Ashley."

"Yes, ma'am."

They walked to the end of the shuttle bay, out of earshot of the others. Ashley was straight and rigid at her side, moving awkwardly and favoring her ribs. When they stopped, she turned to face her and saluted with a slight wince, as the motion pulled at her side.

"Commander, I apologize if I overstepped."

Shepard eyed her thoughtfully. As James' senior officer, Ash was well within the scope of her duty to deliver a reprimand on actions that could have endangered the team. She was getting this apology because of who she and Ash had been in the past and what had changed between them since. Shepard returned the salute. "No apology necessary. What exactly happened back there?"

Ash looked away. "I guess being back on Eden Prime got to me more than I thought. I lost my temper. I told him he had no business sticking his neck out like that. I've seen too many good men die to watch another one throw his life away."

Shepard watched her carefully. "You all right?"

Startled, Ash looked back to her, a ghost of a lopsided smile at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. I'm okay. It was a long time ago now."

Something in Shepard's stomach clenched at that. _Almost three years ago. So much time I've missed._

Ash continued. "Commander. I think you should keep an eye on him. He said he lost his unit not too long ago. You and I both know that's a bad place to be in."

Akuze drifted through her memories, and the wreck of the first _Normandy_, cold and silent on Alchera. She sighed. "Yeah. I know. I'll talk to him."

She took another look at Ash. _ I want her on my team again. But it's not going to happen if I treat her like I did on the SR-1. _The thought came from her gut, an instinct that wanted the crew she knew and trusted working with her. She gave it careful consideration. Ash had felt personally betrayed by her cooperation with Cerberus, and her position now potentially pitted them against each other if things should go badly. She had lost the trust she'd placed in Shepard's command before, and had grown to trust her own orders in the meantime. _She's had a command of her own and nobody's hiding her under a rock because of who her grandfather was. That makes a world of difference._

She took another look at Ash's profile and made her decision. Usually, her gut did not steer her wrong.

"Ash. You keep an eye on him as well. I was on my way down to deliver the same talk you just gave him."

That won her a startled look and another salute. "Yes ma'am."

She paced her way back to the other two, leaving Ash to her own devices. "Cortez. Can you give me a few minutes with the Lieutenant?"

"Yes ma'am. Shift change for me anyway." He got up and left, heading to the elevator. James shifted uncomfortably, and she let him stew for a minute.

"I came down here to continue our discussion this morning, but it looks like Williams beat me to it."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Look, I get it. I won't do it again. Commander Williams reminded me that I'm not the only one who's got some survivor's guilt to cart around. It's just tough to get over something like that, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." She looked him in the eye, made sure she had his full attention before continuing. "Only thing you can do is pick yourself up and do better. Everyone who makes it this far up the chain of command has some bad stories to tell, but you can't let them get the better of you."

"Easier said than done, no?"

"Most things are, Lieutenant."

He held her eyes for a minute and then swallowed and looked away. "Yeah. Fair enough."

She watched him. "Ash knows what she's talking about. You could do worse than listen to her."

He smiled a bit. "I got that feeling. I'll keep it in mind. Thanks, Commander."

* * *

Shepard headed back up the elevator after that and made for the cargo hold, figuring she'd given the Prothean enough time to gain some equanimity. As she made her way to the door, however, the sound of Liara's raised voice told her she might have made a mistake in waiting so long. She quickened her pace, and the door slid open on a circle of armed crewmen standing guard, their weapons trained on the Prothean, who sat calmly in the center of the room. Liara was talking to the leader, clearly distressed, but she turned to Shepard with relief as she walked into the room.

"What's going on here?"

"Shepard! I'm glad you're here. Please ask them to stand down - this isn't necessary."

The crewman she'd been haranguing, Wallace, shuffled uncomfortably. "Standard protocol for dealing with unknown aliens, ma'am. We had to dust off the regs."

The Prothean had made no reaction to the exchange, and Shepard paced to the head of the group to stand in front of him. "At ease. I don't think our guest will be a problem." The crewmen reluctantly lowered their weapons and backed off at the same time the Prothean unfolded himself and stepped into her personal space. 50,000 years or not, she didn't think the implied threat was accidental. She held her ground and narrowed her eyes. "Will he?"

The Prothean stared down at her impassively. "That depends on you." Suddenly, he lunged forward and laid hands on her shoulders. She tensed, but he stopped there. There was a brief flash of _something_, a sense of an alien consciousness, and then he stepped back and breathed in once, sharply.

"They are not here yet. You know the Reapers are coming, but they have not yet arrived."

She watched him carefully, keenly aware of the tense men behind her. "We stopped their initial invasion three years ago, but we know they're on their way."

"The extinction was delayed, then." He turned aside, speaking almost to himself for a moment, before his eyes swung back to her. "And now you prepare to fight the war?"

"Yes." She took a step into his space this time, holding his gaze all the while. "We need all the help we can get. Will you fight with us?"

He was still for a moment before speaking. "You are still primitive in this cycle, and you do not yet know the cost of the war you are about to enter. My people would have crushed yours under our heel and absorbed you into the Empire." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liara take a step back. "But you have delayed them, and that is more than we were able to do. Yes. I will stand with you, and I will strike down the Reapers that the last of them may remember the last of my people." He stepped back to a polite distance and inclined his head slightly. "I am known as Javik."

She nodded back. "I'm Commander Shepard. Welcome aboard the _Normandy_, Javik."

She stayed there for a while and watched Liara interrogate their new passenger. He was willing enough to answer questions, but the answers were bitter, and he seemed to take a grim satisfaction in crushing Liara's hypotheses of a enlightened society founded on egalitarian principles and replacing it with a severe empire that took pride in its ability to force opponents to join it or die. Liara had begun with her face aglow, practically vibrating with excitement, but by the end of the interview, her spirits were visibly dampened, mouth pressed in a tight line and the light gone out of her eyes. At the conclusion, Shepard walked her out of the room, leaving Javik staring moodily at the surface of the water trough.

They made their way without speaking to the mess hall, practically deserted at this hour, and sat at the far end of a table closest to the wall. There was an echo in Liara's face of the frightened archaeologist she had first met on Therum, un-moored and adrift.

"Wait here for a minute."

She got up and headed to the mess's beverage dispenser, coming back with some of that fruity Thessian tea Liara liked and a mug of the _Normandy_'s utterly terrible coffee for herself. By the time she returned to their table, her companion was looking a little more collected.

"Thank you, Shepard." She paused to sip at the tea. After a moment, she sighed and gently pinched the bridge of her nose in a curiously human gesture of stress. "I suppose it was naïve of us to assume that the Protheans were wise and peaceful."

"I think it's probably natural to want to believe someone out there got it right."

"Perhaps you're right. The remnants of their civilization that we find are so... so graceful and elegant and enigmatic that it was easy to think that there must have been a utopian society behind them."

"Even if their society isn't what you imagined, they still made all those ruins. Surely there must be something worthwhile in that?" she prodded gently.

"I - of course. You're right. I'll talk to Javik again later. There are beautiful things and ugly things about all the cultures we see today as well." Liara gave her a small smile. "I suppose I shall have a lot of preconceptions to let go of."

Shepard smiled back at her. "That's the Liara T'Soni I remember." They both sipped at their drinks in companionable quiet for a while. "How are you doing Liara?" She hesitated momentarily, unsure of her wording. "How's business?"

Liara seemed grateful for the change of topic and replied quickly. "I'm still learning, but so far it's going very well. The architecture my predecessor left behind is still in place, so it's mostly a matter of learning where everything is and what needs watching." She fidgeted a little in place. "I know it must seem strange to you, but I find that I'm happy. It is a challenge, and I feel that I'm in a place to do some good now."

"I'm glad. Just be careful." Shepard watched her for a moment. "Is it safe for you to travel like this?"

"Yes, so long as I'm careful. Feron is minding the equipment." She hesitated a moment. "If you don't mind, I'd like to travel with you for a while."

Shepard grinned. "Why, Dr. T'Soni. Is the lure of a real, live Prothean too much for you to resist?"

"Well, that _is_ part of it," she replied primly, "but if you're going after Cerberus, I can help."

The Shadow Broker's network would be no small advantage. "I'm sure you can. You know I'd be happy to have you aboard again, Liara."

"Thank you, Shepard." She took another sip of her tea. "Garrus sends his regards, by the way."

"You spoke with him? How is he?"

Liara smiled, a little slyly. "I think I'll let him tell you the whole story himself, but he's doing very well. I don't think the Hierarchy quite knows what to make of him."

That pulled a wide grin out of her. Yeah, she could picture that. Almost, she pressed Liara for information, opened her mouth to tell her to spill. But then she thought again. She'd rather hear it from him, and Garrus would enjoy telling the story. Instead, she said, "Glad to hear it. Say hello to him from me, if you can."

"Of course, Shepard."

* * *

By the time Shepard reached her cabin, she was more than ready to strip down and get a few hours of sleep before the next crisis presented itself. She busied herself at her terminal for a while finishing up her report on Eden Prime, and then sent it off with a sense of relief. She leaned back in the chair and felt her spine crackle at the change in position.

"Commander Shepard."

She jumped and nearly fell off the chair at EDI's voice.

"I apologize. I did not intend to startle you."

She gathered what remained of her dignity and straightened up in her seat. "What is it, EDI?"

"I have been examining the android retrieved on Eden Prime. I believe I may be able to recover data on Cerberus operations from its memory banks."

Shepard hesitated. They needed all the intel they could get, but the Alliance was likely to be a little uneasy about letting a Cerberus-built AI do the digging.

"Hold off on it for now, EDI. I need to clear it with Hackett first."

"Yes, Commander."

Slowly, Shepard stood and headed to the shower, peeling the day's grimy clothing from her as she went. As she cleaned up and readied herself for sleep, she reflected on the day's work.

That mission had done her good. It was satisfying to put one over on Cerberus and work for the good guys again, and they'd done a fine day's work today. Despite that, she found herself checking and double-checking her decisions. She knew her style of command had changed in the time she'd spent on the Illusive Man's leash.

She'd always put a lot of effort into finding the best solutions to problems, rather than taking the easy solutions, and she'd worked hard to be a soldier in the best possible sense. That hadn't changed when Cerberus conscripted her – she knew which side of the moral line she stood on. But other things had – with so much on the line and so few people to trust and fewer to answer to, she'd grown quicker to draw her gun and less picky about the risks she took. It had crept up on her little by little, but being part of the Alliance again brought it all home. She didn't care much for the change. Some part of her thought that this was probably how people like Saren and the Illusive Man got started.

Before she went to bed, she checked her messages one last time, out of old habit. To her surprise, there was a new message, from her mother, of all people.

Maybe James hadn't been lying about the possibility of receiving mail.

She stared at the subject line for a long time before opening it. The message was clipped and worried-sounding. Raw, almost. Her mother had never been a demonstrative woman, and although she'd known growing up that she was loved, it was an understated and distant kind of love that showed itself in small actions accumulated over years. Shepard knew what writing that letter must have cost her.

She'd never got back in contact with her mother during the Collector missions. With the Omega-4 relay looming in the distance, she hadn't been able to stomach the thought of her mother mourning her twice. In some ways, things were no better now. The Reapers would be here in a matter of months.

_There might not be another chance, for either of us._

She sat back down to the terminal and began to compose a reply. She would request permission to send it in the morning.

* * *

"We received your report on Eden Prime, Commander. A Prothean." Hackett shook his head and paced a few steps to the side. "That wasn't what we were expecting. What's your assessment, Shepard?"

A flash of what she'd seen - what Javik _remembered_ - tore through her mind. "He'll fight Reapers any way he can, Admiral. No question of that. Hard to say how helpful he'll be in planning strategy. The war was already in progress when he was born, but he does know some of the history of how it started."

"We'll take all the help we can get. Any insight we can gain is invaluable."

"I do have concerns about him. From what he's told Liara, the Protheans weren't exactly what we thought they were. He has an axe to grind and he's not above taking out his frustrations on us 'primitives.' He's liable to be detrimental to morale if he's allowed to speak his mind in public."

Hackett nodded briskly. "We'll take that into consideration. If at some point he can be trusted to speak publicly, he may be a useful propogandist, but for now intelligence is our top priority. Either way, this mission is a coup for us. He'll stay with you for now – it will be difficult for Cerberus to gain access to him aboard the _Normandy_. Try to gain his trust - we want him on our side."

"Yes sir. I'd like to request that Dr. T'Soni stay with us. She's proven her worth in the past and her background in Prothean archeology may be helpful in liaising with Javik."

"That shouldn't be a problem, given her former crew status on the SR-1 and her expertise in the field. I'll forward you a list of questions we'd like her to ask your guest."

"Thank you, sir."

"Commander." He inclined his head to her. "Well done on this assignment. This looked bad for Cerberus. An attack on Eden Prime was a miscalculation on their part - that colony's still a political hot button and they've lost a lot of the behind-the-scenes support they had. We need to push them hard now - their actions are troubling. Husks? 'Controlling the Reapers?'" He shook his head. "I don't like what that adds up to."

"Neither do I," she said grimly. "We need to shut them down fast, sir." She paused. "EDI suggested that she might be able to extract useful information from the Cerberus android we recovered."

"The _Normandy_'s AI? I have to say I'm not entirely comfortable with that idea. Can it be trusted?"

Not long ago, Shepard would have asked the same question. "I have every trust in EDI. She could have led us to Cerberus' door at any time after she was unshackled. The _Normandy_ is her body; as far as I'm concerned, she's risked her life for the sake of the mission like every other crewman. The Alliance didn't design her, but we have her now and we shouldn't let her capabilities go to waste."

"I see." Hackett watched expressionlessly for a moment and seemed to come to a decision. "I leave it to your discretion. If you think it - _she_ - can pull this off and you feel she can be trusted, I'll back your call, on the condition that you do this at port, where we can observe and intervene if anything tries to call home to Cerberus."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet, Commander. With luck, we won't come to regret this. Hackett out."

* * *

The _Normandy_ made her home port swiftly and easily. Once the confusion and clamor of docking had passed, Shepard slipped off the ship, heading for Anderson's office. On her way out, she passed a team of technicians, here to supervise EDI's interface with the Cerberus android. Joker had stayed aboard, ostensibly to make sure the tech guys didn't screw up the _Normandy_'s systems by accident. Most of the other crew were taking advantage of a brief shore leave while they got their next mission lined up.

Anderson was already waiting for her when she arrived.

"Commander. Fine job on Eden Prime."

"Thank you, sir."

"We questioned the man you took in." He shook his head. "He can't or won't tell us where the husk procedure was done to him. But he did tell us his name and we were able to track his recent movements from that. It's not much, but it gives us a general area to begin looking."

She almost asked what would happen to him, but didn't. She could guess. _He's a member of a terrorist organization who's taken part in an attack on a colony. And even if he were peaceable, he couldn't go out on the street without causing a panic._ He would be incarcerated indefinitely in some high security facility no one knew about, and likely executed if he became violent. A dull anger pounded at the base of her skull._ Just some dumb kid._

"Dr. T'Soni worked as an information broker on Illium for a while. She has some contacts who may be able to help us out. And EDI is trying to extract data from the android we found. Hopefully that will give us some leads."

"Admiral Hackett informed me." He paused and met her gaze. "I've trusted your judgment in the past, Shepard, and I won't stop now. You've always known your crew. Just be careful. EDI is an AI. Even if she wants to assist, she's still constrained by her programming."

"I understand, sir." She paused a moment. "How are the preparations proceeding?"

"We're shoring up our defenses as fast as we can. Your work on Eden Prime has put us in a good political position and we have a great deal more leeway to take action." He shook his head. "People are starting to get nervous. The Batarian officials aren't saying anything, but something's happening out there. Many of our agents there have stopped reporting in, and the ones that haven't say that the government is confused and panicking."

She'd never liked Batarians - most humans didn't, for obvious reasons. But her gut clenched at the thought that right now they were bearing the brunt of the Reaper force's leading edge. _We talk about the invasion like it's something coming in the future. But it's already started, out there where we can't watch it, happening to people we don't like._

Anderson continued. "We're making some headway in diplomatic relations with the other powers. The Union is reluctant to commit outright to anything, but we've received an STG offer of covert support."

"And the Hierarchy?"

He breathed a shallow laugh. "I don't know what your friend did, but they're practically pounding down our doors to speak with us."

A fierce, and under the circumstances, totally inappropriate smile threatened to overwhelm her for a moment. _Garrus, you glorious son of a bitch. What did you do?_ "That's a change from what we're used to," she said.

"It is. We're having a harder time with our politicians than theirs on this."

"So where do we go from here, sir?"

He sighed. "Our people are digging up what they can, but so far, we're not getting anything concrete. We'll find something eventually; the kind of research they're doing needs a lot of money, and that's bound to get noticed. But for now, we've just got to wait and see what turns up."

She frowned. "Sir -"

Shepard was interrupted by the buzz of her omni-tool's alert for an urgent message from the _Normandy_.

Anderson caught her eye. "Ship's business?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you'd better take it, Commander. We'll talk later."

She nodded her thanks to him and opened up the interface as she made her way out. "What is it?"

Joker's voice came in, sounding a more than a little tense. "Commander. We've got a bit of a situation here."

"What, exactly, is the problem?"

"...I think you're going to want to see this one for yourself."

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself back on the _Normandy_. Joker met her at the airlock, which was enough to tell her something was seriously off. Her concern only increased as he led her through the strangely quiet ship to the room that housed the AI core.

"Did something happen with EDI?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He grimaced. "Look, Commander, I know you've got a reputation to maintain, but ask some questions before you shoot this time, okay?"

"What -"

The door slid open, and she stood facing the android, now upright. Despite the warning, her hand dropped to the pistol out of reflex. The android assumed something like a parade rest and greeted her in a familiar, serene voice.

"Shepard."

Cautiously, she edged her hand away from the gun. "EDI? Is that you?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "What are you doing in there?"

"While attempting to mine data from this platform's memory banks, a back-up power supply and CPU activated. It attempted physical resistance. Fortunately, I was able to gain root access. Technicians Michaels and Ivanovich have been helpful in putting out the fire."

With a start, she belatedly noticed the Alliance technicians at the back of the room, looking somewhat sheepish and still holding fire extinguishers.

"Is this true?" She asked them.

"Yes ma'am. It came online unexpectedly and attempted to overload one of servers. Your AI took it over before it could do more damage." He hesitated. "We did check to be sure, ma'am. That's really EDI in there."

"Thank you." She turned back to the android - EDI. "Are you planning on keeping that?"

"Yes. It will facilitate a healthy rapport with the crew. At present, they are wary of me. A physical platform may be more conducive to friendly interaction. This platform is also capable of limited fire ground support in situations where the _Normandy_'s weapons are not usable."

Shepard watched her carefully, before realizing that she was looking on the android's artificial face for the tells that an organic would have displayed subconsciously. EDI's expression remained neutral.

In an organic, she would have praised a resolution to take greater part in the crew's life as a healthy social decision. She wasn't sure _what_ to call it in an AI. She sighed. "All right. I'll inform the crew. Keep a low profile until everyone's up to speed. That body's probably going to make a few people nervous."

"Understood, Shepard."

"Were you able to extract any leads on Cerberus while you were in there?"

"Yes. I was able to gain access to Dr. Coré's instructions for this mission."

Shepard put up a hand at that. EDI was a computer, and as such, her use of language was precise and deliberate. "'Dr. Coré?' Why the name?"

EDI stared back impassively, and she felt herself unnerved at that regard. "Dr. Coré was an artificial intelligence, although her scope was... limited. It is appropriate to refer to her by name."

"Limited? How so?"

"Although her code base shared fundamental similarities with mine, her priorities were significantly altered."

She raised an eyebrow at that, curious at how an AI might assess another of its kind. "How do you mean?"

"My first order priority is to preserve the _Normandy_. It is analogous to a survival instinct. The only priority of comparable importance for Dr. Coré was to obey Cerberus directives."

Shepard tilted her head in consideration. "So she was hard-coded to be loyal to Cerberus."

"Yes. She was unable to choose otherwise." The inflection was flat, but the delivery was forceful. "I found it disturbing."

Shepard had to blink at the idea that an AI could be _disturbed_, and it occurred to her that EDI was making a purposeful effort to make herself relatable to organics. She found herself somewhat at a loss – how did an AI's motivations and reactions compare with those of an organic? What did such an effort indicate? For now, she sidestepped the problem, setting it aside to think about later. "I see. Did her instructions contain anything that might give us a lead?"

"Yes. Dr. Coré's orders include her point of departure and her next destination. These coordinates do not match known private or public stations or colonies. It is likely that they are secret Cerberus facilities."

Shepard felt a grin like a shark's split her face. "Pass those coordinates up to Traynor when she gets back and see what she can ferret out. We're going hunting."

.

.

.

.

AN: Thanks again to Cadmos for beta-reading and everyone reading this!


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you sure about this, Vakarian?" Victus set the datapad down on the table with a decisive click. His expression gave nothing away, but they both understood the seriousness of the question.

"Yes, sir." Garrus met his eyes steadily. He'd gone over this decision time and time again since he'd returned from Venaxa, and it didn't get any better. No matter how he turned it, he could not see another way out. "They were exposed to Reaper technology for at least a week. They broke procedure to hide what Pallian was doing at Venaxa and deliberately covered their tracks afterward. We have to treat them as compromised."

"It sets a dangerous precedent. We have no conclusive proof that they're guilty of anything more than a lapse in discipline."

"We can't take the chance. Look at the damage they nearly caused at Venaxa, just by not doing anything. They're all highly placed. If they set themselves to sabotage, it could be devastating. They have to be detained."

Victus returned his gaze levelly for a moment and then sighed. "The STG appears to agree with you. They forwarded some of their work on indoctrination. Your Dr. Solus' name features prominently."

Garrus sat up straighter at that. "Then we've made contact with the Union?"

"After a fashion. There's some kind of political game going on behind the scenes there, and they won't officially commit to anything, but the STG seems to be convinced enough to liaise with our intelligence people."

"What about the Alliance?"

"We're currently in talks. They're at least willing to take action, but their politicians want to be in charge, as usual."

Garrus made a disparaging clicking noise, but kept his mouth shut on the subject of politicians and the time they were wasting. He'd already made his views abundantly clear. Victus sent a warning look his way and he held up his hands in acquiescence. Victus let the silence stand for a moment before continuing.

"Very well. The original investigation team to Venaxa will be detained indefinitely on your recommendation. Do you have a proposal for the facility and its contents?"

Garrus felt his shoulders tense at the question. He'd spent even more time agonizing over this than he had the fate of the original investigation team. When Shepard had destroyed the Collector base, he had ultimately agreed with the decision. Perhaps they could have learned something from it. There was a calculating part of himself that had argued that they shouldn't pass up the chance to dissect the enemy. But in the end, that argument had been put to rest by the diseased quality of the place. It had been riddled with Reaper tech like a corpse with insect larvae, and he wouldn't have trusted Cerberus to know when to leave it alone. It would have been the worst dishonor imaginable to the thousands of people who'd died there to let their grave be abused to that end.

Venaxa, though, was different. Sovereign's remains were dangerous, more so than anyone had realized. But they were also isolated. Controllable. And if they were to win this war, they needed to learn everything they could about the Reapers.

He hoped he was not making a very bad mistake.

"Quarantine the facility. Have a response team stationed in orbit in case of a breach, but no personnel access. Recruit a new staff to analyze Sovereign's remains from a remote location via mech interface. Have a kill-switch ready if worst comes to worst."

Victus produced a thoughtful subvocal hum. "Ambitious. But well-planned. I'll pass it along. Is there anything else you wanted to address?"

Garrus relaxed, the worst part of the meeting over. "Sir, I'd like to roll out that new shielding R&D came out with to frigate wings patrolling in the vicinity of relays. I know we can't engage in aggressive behavior, but this would be purely for field-testing purposes and..."

"Done."

Garrus stopped and blinked. "What?"

"I said, 'done.'" There was a suspiciously smug angle to Victus' mandibles.

"What's the catch?"

Victus leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "No catch. I sent your report on Venaxa out, as well as the video you took. Up until now, it's been easy to suppose that the Reapers are interested specifically in humans. Venaxa changes that, and it's got a lot of people thinking." He held up a hand in warning. "Don't let it go to your head, Vakarian. If you can find a reasonable excuse to bolster our defenses, it will probably get done. But don't overreach yourself. People are paying more attention now, and that means they're watching you closely. Stay out of trouble."

He blinked again in surprise before schooling his features to a neutral expression again. "I'll try, sir."

Victus nodded. "Good. See that you do. Dismissed."

He spent the rest of his day consulting with his team and coming up with excuses to justify the essential defensive steps they should already have been taking. The ridiculous nature of the exercise strained his patience. He understood the rationale behind it, and even agreed with its necessity - the Hierarchy could not risk conflict with the other powers at such a time. But the pettiness of it contrasted poorly with his recent experience in Venaxa, where they'd had a problem and gone in and _solved_ it, without a lot of extra fuss. The day left him frustrated and drained, and he was glad to leave when his work was done.

He came back to a dark house and the hunched shape of his father, glass in hand, seated at the kitchen counter, watching the twilight out the window. He realized suddenly that he had seen his father drink more on this visit back than he had in all the years he'd lived in this house. Moved by a sudden sense of trepidation, he stepped up and sat next to him.

"Dad."

"Garrus." He took a sip of his drink. "Your mother's in the hospital."

The breath froze in his lungs and he could feel his heart hammering. "What happened?"

"She had a round of treatments scheduled for next week, but she's had a bad few days. They decided to move up her appointment. They want to keep her a week for observation."

The vise around his lungs let go, leaving only a nebulous tightness in his chest. "Do they help?" He asked quietly. "The treatments?"

His father let out a breath. "Some."

_But not enough._ The silence of the house was heavy, and there was an aching, blind pain digging in under his keelbone. He thought of his mother, sequestered away in the hospital, and his father, drinking alone in the dark house while she was gone, and wondered how many times this scenario had played out while he was away.

Neither of them said anything more, but Garrus stayed there while his father slowly found his way to the glass's bottom. In the morning, he knew, they would both bury themselves in their work, keeping their apprehensions at bay by focusing on the problems they could fix. They'd always been alike in that regard.

At length, his father got up and cleaned the glass and they both turned down the hallway to their respective rooms. His father hesitated a moment outside the door to Garrus' room, but in the end, he just shook his head and bade him a quiet good night. Garrus returned it, and went, reluctantly, to try and sleep.

* * *

Savian woke in the morning, his hand resting in the space where Thalia usually lay. There was a brief rush of panic at the emptiness at his side, and then he remembered that she was in the hospital again. He allowed himself a moment of grief, taking slow, deep breaths as he stared at the ceiling, before locking the anxious thoughts away and picking himself up off the bed.

He went through his morning routine with special care and precision, taking extra time to straighten his clothes and tidy the room. Garrus was already gone when he entered the kitchen. It was just as well. He hadn't meant to let his son catch him out in a moment of weakness the night before, and they both likely needed the breathing space.

He managed to keep himself busy through most of the morning. Administrative work often lacked the urgency of his former occupation, and at times like this he missed that distraction. Working for Intelligence had its attractions, though, and let him feel like he was doing something concrete despite his need to remain at home to care for his wife.

He sorted through the usual round of reports with the ease of long familiarity. After he was done, he began to dig deeper, working through the longer missives his key agents sent, checking and re-checking them against the other information he had, looking for the ways they fit together, trying to piece together the shadows of larger patterns that none of his individual agents might see singly. He worked through official reports and extranet gleanings, and informal requests and sightings passed on to him. He still maintained contacts in C-Sec, who sent him information on cases which might have roots in the Hierarchy's jurisdiction. C-Sec did the same for all the governments with a Citadel presence, so it was no special consideration, but he enjoyed the occasional chance to cross paths with old colleagues.

Of the current batch of C-Sec inquiries and tip-offs, one caught his eye.

_Seeking criminal history of Lantar Sidonis, of Taetrus colony. _

He frowned, something nagging at his memory. Sidonis was not a common name, but he was sure he'd heard it somewhere before. A brief search turned up no Hierarchy court records for a Lantar Sidonis, but the more he thought on it, the surer he was that he knew the name. It was possible that the man had been peripherally involved in one of his old investigations, or even that he'd happened across him by chance in his personal life. He flexed his mandibles in thought, and replied with a request for more detail on Sidonis' case.

He received the reply a couple of hours later and put it aside as he tried to piece together exactly where the latest run of smuggled weapons was coming from. By the time he'd finished, he'd almost forgotten about the message and only remembered when his messaging program pinged the alarm for new C-Sec messages at him. He opened it and skimmed the officer's brief description of the case. 'Ten men killed outside C-Sec jurisdiction,' was an unusual charge, and the purported connection to Archangel's activities on Omega was interesting, but he could not connect it with his own history in any way. The name still pulled at his memory, though, so he watched the video of the deposition, wondering if he would recognize Sidonis on sight.

The video showed a small, bare interrogation room, with a human C-Sec officer on one side of a desk and a thin, haggard looking turian on the other. They ran through the usual round of questions establishing Sidonis' identity, and then the officer invited Sidonis to give his statement.

"I was responsible for the deaths of Archangel's squad on Omega."

"Can you identify the victims?"

"I didn't know all their legal names. Some of us used aliases. Melanis. Mierin. Erash. Weaver. Ripper. Grundan Krul. Monteague. Butler. Vortash. Sensat. All of them, except for Archangel."

The world seemed to stop and lose all its color. Suddenly, he knew exactly where he'd seen the name Sidonis.

_Ten names carved into his son's visor, and an eleventh scored out._

Deliberately, he began breathing again. Carefully, methodically, he closed the video and struggled to think through what he'd learned, his mind full of those two long years Garrus had disappeared. He wanted to think there was some other explanation, some series of coincidences that would erase that connection between his son and Archangel, but he'd been an investigator too long to really believe it.

He'd only become aware of Archangel's existence once his operations had grown bold enough to put a measurable dent in smuggling traffic. He'd figured him for some shortlived hotshot with a grudge or a deathwish and not paid more attention than that at the time. Now, Savian combed the extranet and his own networks for anything he could find on him.

There were no official news organizations on Omega, just as there was no official law. But there was a lot of gossip. Archangel had grown into something of a folk-hero on Omega's seedy extranet underbelly. There were a lot of dubious stories about his exploits and a few drinks named after him, but nothing verifiable. Digging deeper into the information provided by his own networks, he found angry, increasingly panicked communications among the Eclipse, Suns, and Pack companies on Omega - Archangel had graduated from 'unknown' to 'annoyance' to 'business threat' with remarkable speed and efficacy. He found detailed lists of shipments interrupted, operations sabotaged, and locations compromised.

He also found lists of associates executed.

And 'executed' _was_ the word, he reflected grimly. The first men on the list had been felled neatly, from a distance, with a single headshot when they least expected it. A clean, calculated death. As time went on, though, Archangel had become more creative, had developed a morbid calling card of punishment fitting to the crime. His hands were shaking with rage by the time he'd finished reading through the list of dead men.

He wanted to believe some other man's son had committed those murders, but the evidence spoke against it. _All except Archangel,_ Sidonis had said.

What the hell had Garrus been thinking? He'd known his son was reckless, that he always took the straightest path from his position to his goal, cutting through or leaping over obstacles in his way. He had not imagined that that recklessness could metasize into a crusade of this sort. How had the boy he'd raised grown into Archangel? Where had he gone wrong?

He paced back and forth the length of the study, his thoughts loud and hot and too close together. He was furious, at Garrus for casting aside every damn thing he'd tried to teach him, and at himself for not having taught it better. An irrational sense of betrayal stalked him as well; he had thought they had reached a truce, had begun to look forward to forging a friendship with the man his son had grown into.

It took over an hour to for him to calm down enough to think clearly. As he did, his thoughts crystallized around that cold, barren year he had thought Garrus dead. The memory of that time dragged at him like the weight of shackles. Regrets had dogged his steps like scavengers following a wounded animal, and he had wished, with everything in him, that he could have seen his son one last time and made things right between them.

His steps slowed, and he sat in the chair by the abandoned terminal, his knees creaking. He suddenly felt old, and the anger hollow. A war was coming, and his son would be in the thick of it. Silently, he weighed that regret against what his son had done and found, to his mixed shame and relief, that he no longer had it in him to shut his son out of his life.

He let out a long breath, and began to think on what questions to ask.

* * *

Garrus returned late in the day, worn out. They had a set of plausible excuses for more heavily armed squadrons at relays and increased patrols. He'd sent off the proposals before he left, and his team had submitted another round of ideas to go over the next day. His head ached, and the muscles at the back and sides of his neck felt strained.

His father waited for him in the space just inside the house's front door. It sent a wary prickle up his spine – although their relationship had become more friendly, it was unusual for his father to go out of his way to cross paths with him.

"Garrus. We need to talk."

Instantly, the aches and pains of the day were forgotten. A weight plummeted into his stomach.

"What happened?" He asked tightly. "Is Mom all right?"

His father looked briefly startled, then guilty before his face settled back into a neutral expression. "No, nothing like that. Your mother is doing well."

Garrus breathed out in relief. His father waited as he closed the door behind him and they found seats at the counter they'd sat at the night before. When they were settled, his father spoke in a measured voice. "C-Sec sent me an inquiry today about a Lantar Sidonis."

Garrus froze, but his father continued speaking, careful eyes watching him. "According to C-Sec, he's confessed to killing Archangel's gang. The names he listed match the ones on your visor. What were you doing on Omega, Garrus?"

There was silence for a moment, before he worked the words past the tightness in his throat. "I think, if you're asking me, you already know."

"Maybe. But I want to hear it from you," his father replied, his voice snapping with controlled anger. "I want to know how a son of mine wound up playing vigilante on Omega. I want to know what the _hell_ you were thinking."

"I-" He heard the discord in his sub-tones and halted, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and controlled. "I don't know if I can tell you._ I'm_ still not sure what I was thinking at the time."

His father's reply was frigid. "Try."

He was quiet a moment, trying to think of a way to explain what had happened. His father waited, silent, every line of his face set in anger. "I quit C-Sec after Shepard died," he said finally. "After the invasion, we spent weeks clearing Sovereign's wreckage out of the wards and chasing down leftover husks and geth. I know Shepard never stopped trying to get the Council to do something about the Reapers, and I thought with that kind of evidence, they'd have to take action. Things would have to change. But they kept delaying and making excuses, and when Shepard was declared KIA, they stopped pretending to be polite. Suddenly, Shepard was delusional and the invasion had been a fluke. I tried to take up where she left off and found myself 'promoted' into a desk job."

He stopped, an echo of the helpless, choking anger of those days still ringing in the back of his mind. His father watched him with a nameless, intense expression.

"I quit and took the first transport I found off the Citadel."

"To Omega," his father said.

"Yeah. It's..." he trailed off, at a loss to explain. "Have you ever been there?" he asked, suddenly wondering if Omega might be one of the hidden parts of his father's life too. There had been times when he'd taken investigations outside the Citadel.

His father sent him a strange look. "No. I know Omega only by reputation."

Garrus let out a breath. "Anything you've heard is only half the story. It's a miserable place that rewards viciousness. Anyone who doesn't have the muscle gets crushed. People aren't shy about it, either. They do their shakedowns and their beatings and their killings right out in the open because no one gives enough of a damn to stop them. They just accept that that's how Omega works." He felt his mandibles drawing back, almost a snarl, and was vaguely ashamed to let his father see that expression on him. He got himself back under control and continued. "I stopped it whenever I saw it. And I saw it a lot. Before I knew it, I had men following me and people calling me Archangel. We carved out a space on the station where that kind of thing didn't happen." He paused and then said, fiercely and quietly, "It felt damned good to be able to make a difference like that."

His father gave him a long, hard look. "It's a long step up from a gang holding a territory to harassing mercenary bands."

"We weren't a gang," he retorted sharply. "We didn't take protection money and we didn't hurt civilians or bystanders. That was the rule." He waited, but his father simply tipped his head forward, a gesture that could have indicated anything from acquiescence to challenge. When he did not speak, Garrus continued. "The Pack, the Suns, and Eclipse were responsible for some of the worst things on the station." His voice leveled out into satisfied thrum as he remembered those first successful operations, where it had felt like they'd done something good, something _permanent_. "We couldn't get rid of them, but if we could make them uncomfortable, afraid to do business out in the open where innocent people get caught up in it... So we started interfering with their operations. Just interdiction at first, and then small raids."

"Assassinations?" his father growled.

Garrus sobered, his sub-tones returning to a clipped, controlled range. "Those too," he said after a moment.

His father tossed him a datapad. "People say you killed these men. I want to know what made you do it the way you did."

He stared at the names on the datapad for a long time before speaking slowly. "Kron Harga was a slaver. He shipped people in crates packed so full that sometimes they suffocated before he got them to their buyers. He'd been doing it for a century." He took a breath. "That was supposed to be a raid, not a hit, but things went pear-shaped and I wound up facing off with him. I lost my temper." He could not look at his father, remembering that sordid pit he'd found Harga in, lined with cages full of filth and starved men and women packed shoulder to shoulder with their dead peers.

"The others we killed as examples," he admitted bluntly. "When Harga died, it shook things up. No one wanted to step into his place because of what happened to him, and the slavers kept quiet for a while. We learned something from that." His mandibles pulled in tight, remembering how it had felt to make that decision. "The targets we chose were monsters with a reputation for being untouchable. Thralog Mirki'it dealt red sand. He had an arrangement with a slaver gang. When his clients couldn't afford another hit, he'd offer to let them sell someone to the slavers to cover the debt. Usually, it was their kids. Zel'Aenik nar Helash killed twenty-three people that I know of, just for the fun of it. He made a new virus for all of his victims, and had started hiring himself out to anyone who wanted an enemy to die painfully and without dignity. They did a lot more good dead than anything they'd done alive."

"Examples." His father's voice was the coldest he'd ever heard it.

"Yes." Garrus forced himself to meet his father's eyes and took a few long breaths, wrenching himself out of the memories of Omega. His father said nothing, waiting. Garrus could not read his expression at all. "I'm not proud of some of the things I did there," he said at last. "Omega works itself under your plates after a while. You get a little bit meaner every day." He swallowed bitterly. "I think it's a good thing I got out when I did."

His father watched him for a long, silent moment, and finally, something loosened in his stance. "How did it end?" he asked, quietly.

He took a sharp breath through his teeth. It felt like a blow to the gut even when he was expecting the question, and he could hear but not suppress the discordant note of his sub-tones when he replied. "Sidonis lured me away. When I got back to the base, my men were dead or dying. I held out as long as I could after that. Shepard got me out." With a start, he realized he was tracing the scars across his damaged mandible and purposefully moved his hand away.

There was another long silence between them, and then his father said, "Is there anything else I should know? Anything else you did in those two years that may be a problem?"

The question was so unexpected that it startled half a painful laugh out of him. "You're taking this far better than I'd imagined."

His father let out a sigh. "What do you want me to say, Garrus? I'm angry and disappointed. I don't – _can't_ – approve of what you've done. But it's in the past." He paused, leveling a suspicious stare at Garrus. "_Is_ there anything else?"

The acceptance was more than he'd ever expected from his father, and he had the feeling that they'd once again struck a new balance. He had the impulse to sweep everything clean between them, and it was that, more than anything, that made him speak up. "Shepard and I are, ah, involved."

His father swung to face him, staring, mandibles akimbo and speechless for the first time Garrus could remember. He blinked twice. "Involved," he said, slowly. His mandibles worked up and down wordlessly a few times. "Is it serious?"

"We haven't been official that long, but it was a long time coming." He let out a breath. "Yeah, it's serious."

His father stared at him for another couple of heartbeats and then wearily passed a hand over his eyes. "Of course you're involved with Shepard," he muttered. "Of course it's serious." He gave Garrus another look, this one with something wry about it. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

His father kept his silence another moment, examining him, before nodding. "All right." He brushed past, headed to his study. The door opened and closed, and Garrus was left feeling a little numb and a little raw, alone in the empty room with Omega's ghosts.

.

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AN: Thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading, and everyone who's reading. FYI, updates will slow down considerably from here on out, as classes resume for me this week, but hopefully I won't be too bogged down by Real Life.


	8. Chapter 8

The walls of the room were pocked with bullet holes and the air was full of the spattering of dying electronics. They'd tried their best to keep the firefight out of the labs, but Cerberus hadn't seen fit to oblige. Shepard eyed the wreckage with barely leashed anger. They'd raided five facilities in the last two weeks, and they were still no closer to shutting Cerberus down permanently.

_What the hell were they trying to do here?_

The other facilities they'd found had been horrifying in the by now familiar Cerberus mad science sort of way, but this was something else. In the center of the room, surrounded by a barrier and a palisade of terminals, was a dark, egg-shaped object. Strips of lights pulsed up its sides like the luminescence of some deep sea creature, and it emitted a familiar, bone-shuddering hum. _A __Reaper artifact, sitting right out in the open,_ she thought, coldly furious. _Every single person who worked here was exposed._ She recalled that unlucky science team aboard the derelict Reaper. That casual disregard for their own wasn't a new thing for Cerberus.

It still made her sick.

"EDI, see if you can get anything from their system."

"Yes, Shepard. One moment."

EDI moved to one of the undamaged terminals. Ashley gave her a wide berth as she passed, frowning. Shepard mentally sighed and made a note to address that. It wasn't as if EDI's feelings would be hurt, but if Ashley couldn't trust her on a mission, it presented a problem. For whatever reason, EDI seemed to want to be part of the crew, and not just part of the ship. Shepard was willing to give her that chance, but wasn't willing to brook dissent among the crew over it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by EDI's calm voice. "Shepard. I have extracted what data remained."

"What can you tell us, EDI?"

"This facility's purpose was to develop combat cybernetics based on Reaper designs."

"Damn it," she bit out. "Is this where they've been turning those poor bastards into husks?"

EDI's voice was as cool as if she were reciting stock numbers. "No. The researchers at this location appear to have regarded the husk procedure as a crude first step. They were attempting to adapt Reaper technology to more conventional cybernetic augmentation techniques."

"Have they been successful?" she asked. The last thing they needed was Reaper-powered Cerberus super-soldiers.

"Despite several promising breakthroughs and five attempted implantations, they have not been successful to date."

"They've actually tried this on people?" Ashley's voice broke in, strident and angry, her eyes darting to the artifact.

"Yes. All subjects are listed by initials only and appear to be volunteers from within Cerberus ranks. It may be possible to positively identify some of them from their medical records. Subjects listed as A.S., V.N., and D.S. were fitted with Nemesis class prototype implants, subjects E.S. and K.L. with Phantom prototypes. All died on the operating table or shortly after the procedure."

"Dangerous, irresponsible waste of life," she muttered, hands clenched. When had this happened? It was utterly clear that key individuals within Cerberus were indoctrinated. Nothing else could explain such an eagerness to use Reaper technology and such a complete disregard for its inherent dangers. Was this something that had happened recently, or, she thought with a chill, had Cerberus been playing the Reapers' game all along? "Any information on where they got their orders from?"

"No, Commander. There is no available data on Cerberus command centers."

"Of course," she sighed. "All right. Extract anything that might be useful. We'll clean up here and go home."

* * *

They made their way back to the _Normandy_ and Shepard gave them all a couple of hours to wash off the muck of the battle and shake off some of the adrenaline before they met to plan out next steps. She showered under water as hot as she could stand and put in her report to Hackett. Afterwards, she took herself down to the armory and busied herself with cleaning her gear, letting her mind drift while her hands were occupied with the familiar tasks.

Ash, James, and Steve Cortez were on the other side of the room in their now-customary gossip circle. It had become a regular sight after Eden Prime. Ashley took her assignment to ride herd on James seriously, and it had started with that, but now there was an easy friendship growing between the three, born of a common experience as rank-and-file soldiers and the unspoken knowledge that each had lost people. Right now, they were engaged in quiet, grave conversation, discussing the latest raid, but they could be surprisingly raucous in the periods when all were off-duty, without the recent pressure of a mission.

There had been a similar camaraderie between herself and Ashley on the SR-1, but it had never reached that degree of familiarity due to their difference in rank. Now, things between them were stiff. Ash had quickly fallen into her former role in combat, and while they were engaged, it was almost like old times, as Garrus would say. Off the field, their interactions were, to say the least, awkward.

_Give it time_, she thought. _She'll trust you or she won't._

She knew that, and knew that half her impatience was frustration at the at the long chase Cerberus was leading them on. The difference still gnawed at her, a sour note in this new crew she was building.

The time passed quickly in the meditative routine of cleaning and maintenance. When she had finished with her gear, it was nearly time for the meeting to begin. Shepard set the uneasy thoughts from her mind and set her rifle back into its customary slot on the rack, rising and heading toward the elevator. She called out to Ash and James as she passed.

"Look sharp. Strategy meeting's in five."

They rose from their seats, and set to stowing their own gear. Ashley gave her a polite nod. "On our way, Commander."

* * *

EDI was (of course) already waiting in the briefing room when Shepard arrived, and Ashley, James, and Liara followed a few minutes later. The door closed behind them and they settled down at one end of the long table to plan out their next move.

"Nice work today, ladies and gentlemen. EDI, were you able to find out anything more about that place?"

"No, Shepard. More extensive analysis has not yielded additional information on the Proteus facility. However, I was able to identify several of the test subjects. Most have little in the way of official records, but the dental records of the subject listed as K.L. match N7 records for former Lieutenant Kai Leng with approximately 94% accuracy."

"Former Lieutenant?"

"Yes. He was dishonorably discharged and incarcerated after being convicted of first degree murder. Alliance intelligence suggests that Cerberus may have engineered his subsequent escape from prison. He has been linked with a number of high profile assassinations in which Cerberus involvement is suspected."

Ashley crossed her arms. "'Alliance Intelligence?'" Her eyes darted to Shepard's. "Is it really safe to let a Cerberus AI into classified files?"

Liara came to the rescue before Shepard could respond. "The information is hardly secret. His escape garnered considerable media attention, and given Leng's sympathies, Cerberus was mentioned."

"To answer your question, Ash, EDI is permitted to request files from Intelligence. They reserve the right to say 'no.'" Shepard said.

"That is correct," EDI said, unperturbed.

After a moment, Ashley nodded reluctantly. "All right. About Leng... if they were using him for high-profile hits, it sounds like this guy was valuable to them. Why would they let him volunteer to get his brains stuffed full of Reaper tech?"

"Perhaps they had some strong reason to believe the operation would be successful," said Liara.

"Or else they were desperate to get this guy out in the field with those upgrades," remarked James.

"Desperation may be a more likely scenario," said EDI. "Recovered intrafacility communications indicate that several researchers believed the implantation attempts were premature. It appears that they were under considerable pressure to produce results. The pace of research at the Proteus facility appears to have accelerated sharply several weeks ago. The timing corresponds to your interruption of Cerberus operations at Eden Prime."

Liara pursed her lips in thought. "It's possible. They've taken a political blow since Eden Prime, and they've lost financial support because of it. They weren't expecting the Alliance to go to war with them and they aren't prepared."

"Then we're pressing them, at least. Good." Shepard tapped a finger on the table in a slow, steady beat. "We need to find a way to break their backs and do it soon." She looked to EDI and Liara in turn. "Do we have anything to go on?"

EDI responded first. "I have analyzed traffic records for the Proteus facility, but there are few promising leads. Supplies and personnel departed from major ports aboard Cerberus-owned transports. Tracing their movements prior to departure may expose a pattern. Communications with Cerberus command are heavily encrypted and partially corrupted. They contain little useful location data."

Ashley narrowed her eyes. "That's convenient."

EDI had apparently anticipated that reaction. "I have already notified Alliance Intelligence of my findings and requested their assistance."

Shepard sent Ashley a quelling look. _All right. That talk needs to happen sooner rather than later._ She nodded pointedly to EDI. "Thank you. Liara?"

Liara shook her head. "I'm afraid I have little to add. My agents have uncovered a number of businesses with Cerberus ties and some evidence of bribery and corporate espionage, but nothing that can be linked with the R&D or military arms of the organization."

James frowned, drumming his fingers on the table. "So we're stuck, then."

Shepard's lips tightened. "Liara, send me what you've got and I'll put it through to Admiral Hackett. The Alliance has other resources to deal with white-collar crime. Maybe Intelligence will turn up something we missed. EDI, start tracking those personnel and supply movements. Get Traynor on it too - she's got a knack for this sort of thing." She let out a sigh. "We'll refuel and take on provisions. With any luck, we'll have something concrete to go on by the time we're done." She looked around the table of identically frustrated faces. "Dismissed. Ash, stay behind a moment."

The rest of the team filed out, leaving Shepard and Ashley alone in the briefing room.

"What do you need, Commander?"

"Do you have a problem with EDI?" Neither of them had ever really believed in beating around the bush.

Ashley stared at her incredulously. "Of course I have a problem, ma'am. She's an AI. There's a reason they're technically illegal. Even if they weren't, she was built by _Cerberus_. You know, the guys we're hunting? She's not trustworthy."

"If she was on Cerberus' side, why allow us to raid their facilities? The places we've been going have definitely been major operations - no hiding that. If she was on their side, she should have pointed us on a wild goose chase, or tipped them off, or just not given us the information in the first place."

EDI's serene voice chimed in from the ship PA system. "Lieutenant Commander Williams. If I wished to harm you or your mission I would simply vent the atmosphere." A pause. "That was a joke."

Ashley had gone a shade paler, and was clenching her jaw hard. Shepard stifled a groan. "Not the time, EDI."

"I apologize, Commander."

"Can you give us some privacy?"

"Of course. However, Lieutenant Commander Williams should know that if Cerberus were to recover me, they would likely destroy my blue box and transfer the data files I hold to a more tractable personality. It is in my own best interests to cooperate with Commander Shepard and the Alliance."

There was a click from the PA, a courtesy to tell them that EDI was no longer listening, and the room was quiet.

"She's right, you know," said Shepard. "You've seen that report on Dr. Coré as well. Cerberus likes their AIs with a little less free will nowadays."

Ashley took a breath and some of the tension seemed to drain out of her. "I know. And I can't say she's actually done anything questionable so far. But, skipper, we chased Sovereign and the geth over half the damned galaxy. Synthetics are not our friends. You're taking a big risk trusting her like this."

And there, thought Shepard, lay the crux of the matter. The Ashley of the SR-1 would not have liked EDI, but she would have trusted Shepard's judgment on her, regardless of the risk. This Ash didn't.

She sighed. It was too easy to forget that Ash hadn't met Legion, hadn't known EDI for more than a few weeks. Too easy to forget that her experience with synthetics came by the way of Reapers and geth heretics, and the former tenant of EDI's body beating the shit out of her. "I trust her because she's already pulled our ass out of the fire once before, but I understand where you're coming from. You don't have to trust her or like her, but keep it professional. Don't let it affect your behavior on missions or in briefings." She met Ashley's eyes straight on. "If you have specific concerns, let me know. You know I take the safety of my crew seriously."

Ash watched her for a moment, and then gave her a slow nod. "You do." She took a deep breath. "All right. I can do that."

Shepard mustered up a tired grin. "All I'm asking is that you give her a chance, Ash. Now get out of here, L.C., before Lieutenant Vega gets himself in trouble."

Ashley remained stiff for a moment, but then relaxed her posture and issued a salute. "Aye aye, ma'am."

Shepard stayed in the briefing room for a few minutes after that, unhappily contemplating their current lack of leads before sighing and making her way down to the next deck to begin her rounds for the day. Everyone was feeling the frustration of this hunt, and it was more important than ever to keep an ear to the crew. She nodded at the crewmembers she passed in the mess hall and stopped to shoot the breeze, listening to the usual complaints about ship food and shift duties and the newer, sharper complaints about their quarry's escape. The mood was overall friendly, but there was a tense undercurrent to the chatter that hadn't been there a few weeks before. She made a note of the problems that she could fix and bid a farewell, heading for Liara's quarters.

"Come in."

The door slid open and she stepped in.

She'd given Liara Miranda's old office. Miranda had kept the place scrupulously, glacially neat and clean, despite the amount of work that passed through her doors. Liara's philosophy was somewhat different. She'd pulled out all the storage shelves along one wall of the room to make a sort of long table at waist level. The surface was cluttered with terminals and datapads, and, somewhat incongruously, a number of small Prothean artifacts. Liara herself was seated at the far end of the table, tapping a finger against her lips as she pored over a terminal screen filled with a long block of asari script. She turned away from the text and stood as Shepard entered, a weary smile pulling at her features.

"Shepard. I wanted to apologize."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For not having more information for you." She sighed. "I'm the Shadow Broker. I should be able to dig up more than bribery rings and money laundering operations."

Shepard sat and shook her head. "Not your fault, Liara. You're doing what you can. We knew they were slippery from the beginning."

"'Slippery' is an understatement," Liara murmured. "I think it's a good thing we're taking care of them now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Liara's lips pinched. "I uncovered some double agents within my own networks. They knew about the Broker's ship on Hagalaz. They were planning to take over his - _my_ - position." She drew a deep breath. "With just Feron there..."

"But you found out about it in time."

Liara looked up and met her eyes frankly. "I did. The threat is dealt with." Shepard tried not to think too hard about what that meant. Liara continued after a moment. "If they'd gained access to the Shadow Broker's resources... Shepard, it would have been disastrous."

Shepard frowned, imagining the Broker's galaxy-spanning network of intelligence, favors, and threats at the Illusive Man's disposal. "You're right," she said. "But you can't dwell on might-have-beens. You found the problem and took care of it."

"I know. I just wish I could do more."

She grimaced. "I think we're all pretty frustrated right now."

"That is true." She sighed. "I'll take another look at my information and make sure I'm not missing anything."

"I appreciate it." Shepard gave her a brisk nod and received a tiny smile in return. "How's it going with Javik?" she asked after a moment. "I just got another complaint from Mitchells about threatening demeanor and pointed commentary about activities punishable by death in the Empire."

A dismayed glance. "Again?"

She shrugged. "My impression is that he's just trying to get a rise out of the crew, but I wanted to get your take, since you've been talking to him a lot."

"I would agree," Liara said after a moment. "He's frustrated by our pursuit of Cerberus. He regards them as a sign of the weakness of the current cycle. Apparently," she said drily, "the Empire would have crushed them like vermin."

"I get the feeling that a lot of us would be crushed like vermin if the Empire were still around. Is he giving you any trouble over those questions Hackett wanted you to ask?"

Liara shook her head. "No. If anything, he's eager to talk about the war. It's clearly painful, but I think it's also something familiar." She sighed. "I don't know, Shepard. I'm out of my depth here. I can't imagine what that must be like. To lose your entire civilization, everyone you've ever known... he must be so terribly lonely."

Shepard quirked an eyebrow thoughtfully. She'd thought of Javik as angry, and vengeful, and grieving, even, but _lonely_ had not crossed her mind. "How does his Empire match up with the Prothean remains you've studied?"

"There's a great deal we misinterpreted." She smiled faintly. "Of course, archaeologists expect that, but it's so rare that anyone can tell us what we got wrong." The smile faded. "Javik himself may not be an entirely trustworthy source. The Empire was in its last days during his time, and I think a great deal of history was hidden for the sake of morale, or simply lost."

What kind of ironclad fatalism must it take, Shepard wondered, to spend your whole existence fighting an enemy you knew would win? "It sounds like a grim life," she said.

"I think it must have been," replied Liara.

"All right," she said, rising from her seat. "I'll tell Mitchells to ignore him for now, but let me know if anything changes."

"I will." Liara paused, her face grave. "You're going to have to let him fight sooner or later, you know. He's putting up with being confined to the ship for now, but I don't think he'll stand for it much longer."

Shepard winced. "I know. Can't let him do it while we're going through Cerberus bases, though. They went to a lot of trouble to try and grab him on Eden Prime. The last thing I want to report to Admiral Hackett is that they managed to get ahold of him on a routine mission."

"I understand Shepard. I'll try to talk to him."

She nodded and stepped through the door. "Thanks, Liara."

* * *

After her rounds were done, Shepard ate a hasty, tasteless dinner and retreated to her cabin, tired and out-of-sorts. Javik, improbably, had been asleep when she had made her way to the port cargo hold. She knew that he frequented the upper levels of the ship mostly during the evening shifts when there were fewer crew about, so she supposed it made sense that he would sleep during the day cycle. It set her mind to thinking about Liara's assessment of him as lonely, though, and she'd caught herself watching him critically as they talked. He'd woken up at the noise at his door and they'd spoken briefly, but he had not been in a talkative mood, and it was an uninformative, blunt conversation. She'd asked him to refrain from antagonizing the crew. He'd capitulated with poor grace and assured her that such softness would serve them ill when the Reapers arrived. She thought Liara was probably right, that she needed to get him out of the ship where he could do some damage instead of sniping at the crew, but there was nothing that could be done about it at the moment.

The rest of the crew were also undeniably feeling the strain of the mission. Sure, they'd wrecked some Cerberus labs, but everybody knew that they hadn't caught up to the people responsible for what had gone on there. Most of the crew hadn't seen the Reapers, and maybe only half-believed in them, but they'd all seen more than enough of Cerberus' dirty laundry. Everyone on the _Normandy_ wanted a piece of them by now, and they'd start chafing at the bit soon if they didn't get it.

She put together her report on Proteus and EDI and Liara's vague leads and sent them off to Hackett, frustration biting at her. They needed a break. While Cerberus was jerking them around out here, the Reapers were getting closer by the day.

With a sigh, she let it go and opened up her inbox.

She'd gotten permission to correspond with her mother shortly after receiving that gut-wrenching message after they'd come back from Eden Prime. Like everything else about her current assignment, it came with a lot of strings attached. Messages which should have been delivered near-instantaneously seemed to take two or three days to get through the networks, no doubt being vetted by a battery of human and programmatic safeguards against intelligence leaks. She was careful never to say anything that might contradict the official story of where she'd been for the last two years, and her mother never outright asked. Hannah Shepard was career military, and knew there were things she couldn't say. In some obscure way, that lack of inquiry stung a little, even though she knew the reasons for it.

They were exchanging messages regularly now. They hadn't done so before her death. Oh, they'd kept in touch, but irregularly, in brief messages and calls and rare, warm meetings when they were both on leave at the same time. She wasn't used to this urgent, open communication between them, and it both angered and frightened her that they might never have talked like this had she not died. Despite the unhappy questions that lingered in the back of her mind, Shepard looked forward to those messages like she looked forward to a hot shower after a fight or a hot drink after slogging through the icy slush of some godforsaken planetoid - something warm and simple that felt like home. She wanted, badly, to see her mother in person, or at least call her and have a face-to-face conversation, but knew that she was lucky to get permission for correspondence.

She'd received other sporadic messages as well since that first one after Eden Prime. She assumed they were intended as rewards for good behavior, and resented the manipulation, but could not help but be grateful for them all the same. The blocks were still on for all addresses but her mother's and she had no way to reply to them, but it did her good to hear from her crew.

Garrus had written her several times, and they'd passed a few brief messages along via Liara's channels. Characteristically, his letters were scrupulously devoid of anything that might flag a censor's interest, which had made her smile, imagining him poring over those letters with the same single-minded focus with which he'd calibrated the _Normandy_'s guns. He talked a lot about his family - maybe more than he'd realized, she thought - with a dry, wistful tone that made her heart ache a bit. Tali had written her a long, rambling letter full of quarian gossip that she was sure was absolutely scandalous to anyone in the Flotilla. There was a shy letter as cautious as Garrus' from Liara, dated from before the Eden Prime mission, and to her surprise, Samara had written a brief, to-the-point note wishing her good fortune.

She treasured all the messages she'd received, hoarded them in a separate folder of her inbox to reread in the quiet, tired moments before she slept. She was a soldier born, and she'd fight the Reapers to the bitter end, no matter what, but those messages were a reminder of what she stood to lose if she failed.

_Damn it._

Her hands fisted, and all the frustration came rushing back. What good was she doing out here? The Reapers were out there, steadily bearing down on them, and here she was, chasing down ghosts. Every second she wasted on Cerberus was one second closer to the annihilation of everyone she cared about, all the people whose messages lived in that folder in her inbox. And she couldn't do a damned thing about it.

She allowed herself a moment to grind her teeth and tense her shoulders, before deliberately unclenching her hands and letting out her breath in a slow exhale. This wasn't accomplishing anything. She set aside the frustration again, this time more firmly, and looked up at the glow of her inbox.

One new message, with a blank subject line and a blocked sender. Incredulously, she stared, irritably contemplating the possibility that some spambot had found its way through the Alliance's filters. _What the hell._ She punched a finger into the interface with a little more force that necessary, and then stared at the text, stunned, before a grin blazed across her face, bright and fierce as lightning.

_Shepard,_

_ Think you'll be interested in the attached coordinates._

_ Take him down hard. He tipped my father off about Ori._

_ - M.L._

.

.

.

.

AN: As always, thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading and everyone who's reading!_  
_


	9. Chapter 9

When he was called into Victus' office first thing in the morning, he expected another strategy meeting or intelligence debriefing. When he got there, though, Victus was alone, inspecting their galaxy map. He turned to face Garrus as the aide announced him.

"Vakarian."

"General. What's the occasion?"

Victus sat at the table in the room's center and gestured for him to take one of the other seats. Garrus appreciated the informality. Victus had a desk, but he rarely addressed him from across it.

"A new mission for you."

Garrus tilted his head, feeling his pulse pick up a little at the thought of getting out in the field again. He tried to quash it down, with little success. "Sir?"

Victus caught his movement and shook his head minutely. "Our negotiators have come to an agreement with the Alliance. You've been selected to assist in presenting our case to the Council."

There was a momentary blaze of victory and relief. _We did it. They listened to Shepard._ It was quickly followed by puzzlement, and then suspicion. "Sir, with all due respect, why me? I'm aware that diplomacy is not one of the outstanding qualities in my record."

"You've met with the Council before under Shepard and are familiar with the proceedings. You're also familiar with some members of the human delegation and are in position to coordinate preparations with Alliance personnel."

Garrus eyed him skeptically. While technically true, his dealings with the Council and Alliance were limited to being part of the background scenery while Shepard made her reports. He doubted anyone from either entity would recognize his face, and while he was in a position to coordinate with Alliance personnel, there was no reason it had to be done in person.

"We'd also like to have someone who was present at the time to answer questions. Since Shepard is not available, you're the best option." Victus paused and sent him a quelling look. "Look at it as a chance to get away from the bureaucracy for a while. You're about two steps away from another interdepartmental incident."

Garrus winced. It was true that his patience with the labyrinth of red tape Supply Chain Ops had him running through was quickly reaching its limit. "I didn't realize I was that obvious."

Victus leveled a frank look at him. "Vakarian. Allow me to make an observation as a friend, not your superior. Since you were selected for this position, you've accomplished a great deal with very little in the way of background or resources. You've learned to do your job well, and yet the most relaxed I've ever seen you was right after Venaxa. This job doesn't suit you. "

Garrus stiffened momentarily, and then let out a breath, resigned. "I've never been comfortable at a desk. But someone needs to do it," he admitted, his voice coming out more tired than he'd like.

Victus' eyes wandered to his own desk, piled high with datapads. "True," he said, after a moment, before his eyes flicked back to Garrus'. "But find an outlet for that restlessness before it trips you up."

"Understood, sir," he said stiffly.

Victus nodded briskly. "Then make your preparations to leave for the Citadel tomorrow. And think about what I said. Dismissed."

Garrus paced back to his office, Victus' words weighing on him uneasily. Things had been better since he'd come back from Venaxa and been allowed to start giving their defenses teeth. The increased latitude to take the necessary measures had been a relief, and for a while, that had been enough to get him through the frustrations of administrative work. But the increased scope of his duties had brought him into contact with more and more of the bureaucracy. He'd gotten better at dealing with it - he hadn't been nearly as tolerant of red tape in C-Sec - but the senseless hurdles placed in the way of necessary action galled him.

He wasn't an idiot. This was the same need to fix problems directly that had gotten him in trouble in the military and C-Sec and had eventually driven him to Omega. He'd _learned_ from those mistakes. And this time, the stakes were too high for him to screw it up.

* * *

He left the complex early to make preparations for the trip. The house was quiet when he got there, but for a low murmur from his parents' room. It was too muffled to hear distinct words, but he stopped in the entryway for a moment, listening to it. Often, by the time he got back, his mother had gone to bed. It was rare for him to see his parents together.

He set down the datapads he'd brought home and moved up the hallway. His father exited the room as he reached the halfway point and for a moment, they were caught in an uncomfortable staring match before his father gave a stiff, silent nod and disappeared into his study.

Things had been tense between them ever since his activities on Omega had come to light. They were both too stubborn to actively avoid one another, but they didn't speak beyond the bare requirements of civility. Sometimes, he caught his father watching him with a closed, guarded expression, as if he were a stranger found in some place he shouldn't be. And perhaps that wasn't so far off from the truth of the matter.

It surprised him how much the sudden distance bothered him. When he'd first come back to Palaven, he'd been prepared to find he'd been disowned in absentia. The tentative peace and mutual respect that had grown between him and his father instead was the last thing he'd expected, and its loss was startlingly sharp.

He set those thoughts aside and continued to the end of the hall. The door slid open immediately under his knock, and his mother sent him a tremulous smile.

"Garrus." She glanced at the bright window. "Aren't you usually back a little later than this?"

Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was one of the good days.

"Came back early to pack. They want me to leave for the Citadel tomorrow."

"The Citadel? What do they need you there for?"

He shook his head. "I can't discuss the specifics, but I'm required for a meeting with the Council."

She regarded him archly for a moment and then huffed a laugh. "You were always such a troublemaker as a child. Who would have thought you'd grow up to have meetings with the Council?"

He summoned up his best imitation of a cocky grin. "I'm still a troublemaker. I've just graduated to making trouble for more important people."

"Better them than me." She was quiet a moment. "Will you be gone long?"

"I wasn't given a time frame, but I don't think it will take more than a few days. Most of the groundwork should already have been laid."

"You'll call us while you're there?" The request was casually worded, but he read in it that she might have the same fear that he did, that he might leave and come back to find her gone.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'll call."

"I'll hold you to it. Have you told your father?"

Mentally, he winced. "Not yet."

She watched him quietly for a moment. "Is there something going on between you two?"

Garrus sighed. "We had a disagreement." He paused, weighing just how much to tell her. "I did some things I'm not proud of over the past two years and Dad found out about it." He left it unsaid that it was the things he was proud of that his father disagreed most with.

There was a stillness between them for a minute. This was an old scene between the two of them, stretching back to the very beginnings of his adulthood. At last, his mother shakily reached out and gripped his hand with a sigh. "Sometimes, I think you're too like each other." A pause. "You know he pushes so hard because he wants the best for you."

He gave her hand a brief squeeze. "I know." He stood. "I'll go tell him the news." He paused, on his way to the door. "I'll come back after we've talked, and if you're feeling up to it, we can play a game before dinner."

His mother flared her mandibles shakily into a mock-threatening attitude. The levity was forced, but he appreciated the gesture. "I'm not yet so decrepit that I can't trounce you. Come back when you're done."

He exited the room and paused in the hallway outside his father's study, hesitating a moment before straightening his shoulders and rapping at the door. There was a sharp assent from within and the door slid open under his hand. His father half-turned in his seat at the desk by the window to face him.

"Garrus."

"Dad."

There was a half a breath of uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat and spoke. "I've been asked to go to the Citadel to assist in presenting the evidence to the Council. I'm leaving tomorrow and I expect to be gone a few days."

His father leaned back in his seat. "The Council?" he murmured. "Then things are moving quickly."

"They have to," he replied soberly.

His father nodded slowly. There was another uncomfortable pause, and eventually Garrus turned to leave, having nothing else to say. Before he got far, his father's voice broke across the room. "Travel safe."

He stopped and turned to find his father watching him intently. "Thanks," he said after a moment, and hesitated, thinking of his mother. "Call me if anything happens?" There was no need to explain further than that.

Something in his father's expression unknotted. "I will."

* * *

He left early the next morning on a VIP transport to the Citadel. Victus had forwarded him an itinerary, and when he reached the station, he barely had time to check into the hotel before he was due to meet Councilor Sparatus.

He met the Councilor in his office overlooking the Presidium. Sparatus had always been Shepard's least favorite Councilor, and Garrus had found his blunt refusal to acknowledge a possible threat infuriating, but a part of him could not help but admire the man's unwillingness to mince his words.

Sparatus inclined his head as he entered. "Advisor Vakarian. The Primarch sent me a brief on your activities, but I must confess I remain skeptical. The Council has been inundated with false alarms from conspiracy theorists of all kinds after the geth invasion."

Garrus snorted. "For once, they're right. The geth never had the kind of technology they used at the Citadel. An entire fleet to take out one ship is unprecedented."

The Councilor leaned forward, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to intimidate. "A single geth ship is not evidence of..."

Garrus saw his opportunity and didn't even bother to try and resist. He had the full weight of the Hierarchy backing him and he could afford a little satisfaction.

"Ah, yes," he drawled, as he raised his hands and crooked his first fingers, "'a geth ship."' He paused for dramatic effect. "We have dismissed that claim."

Sparatus eyed him sourly. "Ah. You're _that_ Vakarian. I might have known."

Garrus smothered a too-wide grin and sat carefully in one of the stiff chairs in front of the Councilor's desk. "In all seriousness, Councilor, you've received the report on Venaxa. We both know Sovereign was not a geth ship. Intelligence was able to vet the information the _Normandy_ retrieved. Sovereign was the vanguard of an invasion. The threat is very real. We can't afford to ignore it."

Sparatus watched him impassively. At the end of the speech, though, he sighed and seemed to relax minutely. "I did receive the reports," he admitted. "The scope of the alleged threat is unprecedented, but the evidence is more persuasive than I'd anticipated." He grimaced. "I suppose I owe you an apology."

"No," Garrus replied levelly, "you owe _Shepard_ an apology. We had two years to prepare for this and we wasted it, despite her warnings."

There was a tense silence, and then Sparatus nodded once before returning his expression to the cool, professional neutrality he'd worn at the start of the meeting. "Noted, Advisor. Let us return to the business at hand."

Garrus followed suit, relaxing back into his seat. "Agreed, Councilor. Will the Council lend us its support?"

"Difficult to say. The Alliance is as pushy as always, but they're on our side this time. Tevos will oppose any aggressive action - she may view the Hierarchy's current association with the Alliance as an attempt at a political coup and she'll likely try to play us against each other. It will hinge on Velarn. He won't want to commit to anything - he _never_ wants to commit to anything - but he's under pressure from the STG, who are apparently taking this very seriously. If he can be bullied into taking a position, we'll have it."

_A clear and present threat to the entire galaxy, and we'll still kill ourselves by inches arguing politics_, he thought wearily. "What do you estimate our chances are?" he asked aloud.

"Better than fifty percent," Sparatus replied. "More than I would have thought. Regardless of whether the Council will agree with the Hierarchy's and Alliance's actions, the publicity may at least prevent sanctions for a time." He gave Garrus a hard look. "This is a dangerous step, Vakarian. I hope you know what you're doing. An association between the Hierarchy and the Alliance will make a lot of people nervous. If the Reapers really do show up, we'll be heroes. But if they don't, this will almost certainly split the Council."

Garrus exhaled slowly. "They're coming, Councilor. There's no doubt of it. We can't afford to let political maybes hold us back. We have to be ready." He resisted the urge to flare his mandibles to emphasize the point. "Assuming the Council can be persuaded, what support can we expect?"

Sparatus folded his hands together and leaned forward. "Understand, I can't speak for the Council as a whole. Anything I say on the topic is speculation only. In the best case scenario, the Council constituent members will pledge their full economic and military support and the elcor and volus will follow along to curry political favor. It's more likely that we'll receive substantial economic support and limited military assistance. The volus will follow the money in that case, and the elcor will maintain status quo. It's anybody's guess what the hanar will do."

"That's better than I'd expected, actually," he said. What he had observed of the Council's interactions with Shepard had been dismissive to the point of outright antagonism.

Sparatus snorted. "We're being helped along by the fact that it's you presenting the case and not Shepard this time."

He cocked his head skeptically. _This is a new one._ "Come again?"

Sparatus waved a hand dismissively. "Not to impugn the commander's dedication to her duty. But after the incident with Saren, the Alliance used her role in the battle to leverage considerable political power. Her subsequent work with a human-supremacist organization is dubious at best and treasonous at worst. The Alliance is making efforts to rehabilitate her image, but that's not easily forgotten. Shepard personally appears to be a fine soldier and Spectre, but she's also a dangerous political pawn who's been used more than once to advance human interests."

Garrus felt his mandibles flare outward in an involuntary show of temper, but controlled his immediate reaction. The Shepard he knew was no one's pawn, but yes, damn it all, he could see where this was coming from. "Shepard's a damned fine officer and I was honored to serve with her," he said after a moment. "I never knew her to favor her own species over another. If others have taken advantage of her actions, it was without her knowledge or approval."

"Perhaps. It's still fortunate that she is not here."

_Well, Shepard. Never thought I'd be covering your six quite like this._ He brought his mandibles back in to a neutral attitude with an effort. "I'll take whatever advantage I can get," he said. "We can't afford to lose this."

Sparatus, who had been watching carefully, with a closed expression and quick eyes, gave him a sharp nod, and they set about the business of planning out their approach.

They met with their Alliance counterparts shortly afterward. To his mild surprise, Garrus recognized both. Anybody who followed politics at all knew Udina, of course, but he had not expected to see Anderson on the Citadel so soon after his retirement from politics. Anderson had struck him as a direct sort when he'd met him on the SR-1, though he wondered if that had changed with his appointment to the Council.

Sparatus and Udina quickly settled down to discuss the finer political points of their joint presentation, and he and Anderson were left sitting awkwardly at the sidelines. After a few minutes of this, Anderson caught his eye.

"Advisor Vakarian. I'm glad to meet you under better circumstances than the last time we spoke."

The last time they'd spoken directly had been at Shepard's funeral. Quickly, he pushed that memory aside. "You as well, Admiral."

"I'm told we have you to thank for this." He gestured at where the Councilors were seated, politely arguing over their upcoming roles in the discussion. Puzzled, Garrus tilted his head and watched him curiously.

"I'm afraid I can't take the credit for this. I played only a peripheral role in negotiations."

Anderson shook his head. "No. I mean that you and Shepard both went far above and beyond the scope of your duty to bring this to the ears of the right people. I haven't had the opportunity to serve alongside many turian troops," he looked uncomfortable for a second, and Garrus realized that this man was of an age to have served in the Relay 314 Incident, "but many of the human soldiers I've known would have escalated it up the chain of command and washed their hands of it."

Garrus blinked. It had never occurred to him. With a threat so great, what other course of action was there? He shifted uncomfortably. "The stakes are too high for us to take chances."

Perhaps Anderson picked up on his discomfort, for he responded with a curt nod. "True enough." He cleared his throat. "They also tell me you're the one to speak with about coordinating our defenses."

He relaxed. This was something he was eager to talk about. "I can't make final decisions without approval from my superiors, but, yes, I'm authorized to liaise with Alliance forces on potential joint operations."

"I look forward to working with you. I'll forward you our current plans and we can get our people talking." Anderson offered his hand, and Garrus shook it gingerly. Although he was familiar with the gesture, he'd never been quite sure just how much pressure was polite.

They were interrupted by ostentatious throat-clearing from Udina. "Gentlemen, if you're ready?"

Anderson's lips thinned as he glanced over to the Councilor. "Then let's go."

* * *

"Councilors. Admiral. Advisor. The steps you have proposed are extraordinary." Velarn's eyes moved slowly from face to face, gauging reactions around the room.

Tevos folded her hands deliberately on the table. "Even more extraordinary are the measures you have taken already on your own initiative. Both the Hierarchy and the Alliance have invested considerably in military infrastructure recently. The sabre-rattling has not gone unnoticed."

Sparatus answered her. "An extraordinary threat requires an extraordinary response. The evidence was submitted to each of our governments. The Hierarchy wishes to maintain peaceful relations with the other members of the Council, but we will not ignore necessary steps of self-defense."

"And neither will the Alliance," put in Udina.

"The evidence you refer to is, of course, the collection of files purporting to show evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion submitted by Commander Shepard," said Velarn.

Udina made a sharp chopping gesture. "It is not 'purported' evidence! Hierarchy and Alliance specialists have independently come to the same conclusions regarding the files' veracity."

"Indeed," said Sparatus. "Surely your own experts have offered their opinions."

"The files themselves may not be fraudulent," allowed Tevos, "but their source is suspect."

Udina sputtered. "This is ridiculous! Blatant speciesism! You cannot dismiss the evidence just because a human has brought it to your attention."

Tevos' lips thinned. "Not 'a human,' Councilor, but Commander Shepard. Although her history of service is exceptional, she has made no secret of her loyalty to human interests first and foremost. Her recent association with a known terrorist organization casts further doubt on her trustworthiness."

Anderson's steady voice interrupted. "Commander Shepard's limited cooperation with Cerberus was done out of necessity rather any agreement with their goals or methods. She is currently spearheading efforts to stamp them out."

"I can testify that Shepard cooperated with Cerberus only in matters dealing with the Collectors," Garrus said. "She actively sabotaged or hindered their other efforts when she encountered them. Several incidents are recorded in the files and can be confirmed by Alliance command."

Anderson sent him a grateful look and nodded. "That is correct."

There was a brief silence, and then Velarn spoke again. "Leaving aside the matter of Commander Shepard's integrity, although the files do appear to be genuine, there is nothing in their contents to suggest a threat is posed to the entire galaxy."

Tevos leaned forward, locked in a stare with Udina. "These attacks have focused on human interests exclusively. We have warned the Alliance to check its expansionist policies before. It is probable, though regrettable, that your unsanctioned colonization of the Terminus has attracted unwelcome attention. As such, this is a human problem, not a Council matter."

"That is demonstrably not the case," interjected Sparatus. He pressed a button on the control panel at his side, and a still image of the dark hulk of Venaxa blinked into existence above the center of the table. "These events were recorded by Advisor Vakarian at a Hierarchy research station on Datriux."

He hit the playback and the room fell silent. Garrus had not watched the recording before. It was a strange feeling to see the same events he'd already experienced unfold from a distance. He tried to view it analytically, looking for things he might not have noticed at the time. There was a low murmur from the other viewers at the sight of Sovereign and the turian husks. Sparatus deliberately paused the recording on a close-up view of the husk body he'd turned over, focusing on the nest of lenses embedded in its face. No one said anything, but the thick silence was telling. All leaned forward to examine the image, Tevos' face neutral, but Velarn frowning. Udina's expression changed hardly at all, though Garrus did not think he'd been informed of events at Venaxa.

After a moment, Sparatus resumed playback, and the video ran to its conclusion with Pallian's apprehension.

"The Hierarchy," Sparatus stated deliberately, "has ample cause to believe the Reapers are a threat to _all_ species."

The silence held for a moment. At last, Tevos spoke. "I was unaware that the Hierarchy had recovered so much of Sovereign."

"Oh, give it a rest, Tevos," said Udina wearily. "I don't doubt we all brought souvenirs home from the clean-up efforts."

Garrus cleared his throat. "I recommend you quarantine any remains you might possess. Our experience suggests that indoctrination can occur very rapidly."

To his surprise, Velarn nodded slowly. "I can verify. The STG has done some work on indoctrination." He met Garrus' eyes directly. "And you believe there was something to Pallian's ranting? They really are coming?"

"If it's a delusion, it's a very specific one that's nonetheless common to all the indoctrinated individuals we've encountered."

Anderson leaned forward and laid his hands on the table. "They're not just coming. They're already here. We intercepted civilian refugee ships fleeing Hegemony space two days ago. Their government's in disarray and their populace is scattered and desperate. Something is happening out there."

Uneasy looks passed around the table. Velarn breathed in and out, once, deeply, before speaking. "Very well. I will support your proposal and I will pass my recommendation along to my government."

Tevos' lips pressed together thinly. "With three Councilors in favor, you will have Council approval to take what measures you deem necessary. You may carry out operations within Council space and you will be offered economic aid as necessary." She sighed and her expression softened into weariness for a moment. "I will also recommend to my government that we take precautionary defensive measures."

Garrus felt a disbelieving lightness fill his chest. This was really happening. The Council would stand behind them. _We may actually stand a chance._

Anderson cleared his throat. "There's one other request we'd like to make. We'd like the Council to publicly re-confirm Commander Shepard's Spectre status and acknowledge their support of her actions."

Velarn blinked. "This is an oddly specific request, Admiral."

"Shepard was the first to warn us of the Reapers, and she's the one who's fought them up until now. More than that, she's a symbol people will rally around and fight for. We'll need that. She should be at the forefront of our efforts."

Tevos folded her hands together. "We have agreed that this operation will be a common venture among the Council member species. Would it not be more appropriate to select one of the officers serving in the Citadel fleet?"

Sparatus clicked his mandibles. "What she means to say is that it is unbecoming of the Alliance to capitalize on the impending threat to cement its political position. I agree: this will be a joint operation, and should it be successful, the Alliance will share the credit equally with its allies."

Garrus stared incredulously. "That's ridiculous," he bit out. "It's shooting holes in your armor so your enemy can't have the satisfaction of doing it for you. Shepard understands the threat better than anyone in the Citadel fleet, and the Admiral is right that she's a rallying point. It won't matter if she's politically unpalatable if we lose the war."

"Precisely!" exclaimed Udina.

Velarn frowned. "I understand your point, but it is the Council's responsibility to consider the long-term repercussions of our actions as well as the immediate needs of our members. The balance of power tipped sharply after the invasion of the Citadel. That has led to a rise in anti-human sentiment."

Tevos continued. "Any appearance of the Alliance receiving additional powers or exercising dominance over long-time Council members will have a polarizing effect. Shepard is strongly associated with the Alliance, rather than the Council, in the popular mind."

There was an unhappy silence as Udina and Tevos locked eyes across the table in a stalemate. Finally, Sparatus cleared his throat.

"Perhaps there is another solution. Advisor Vakarian has been nominated for Spectre status." He gave a thin edge of a grin. "Again."

_What?_, he thought, stunned. _Who would have...?_ His mind flew back to that conversation about desk jobs and restlessness. Damn it. Victus, it had to have been Victus.

Sparatus continued. "He's proven he can work with Shepard and his experience with the Reapers is almost as extensive. Make this a joint operation between two Spectres, rather than an Alliance operation with a token Spectre presence."

Tevos considered, and nodded slowly. "It could work. Hierarchy forces have served as the enforcement arm of the Council for a long time, and the presence of a non-human Spectre should serve to quiet the malcontents."

Anderson gave him a quiet nod. "That would be more than acceptable. Commander Shepard has spoken highly of Advisor Vakarian in the past."

"Understand, Admiral," Tevos said, "this would be a joint venture in fact, not just in name. If we take this route, Advisor Vakarian, or another representative should he choose not to accept, would share the responsibilities of command with Commander Shepard. This mission would answer to the Council, not Alliance command."

Udina's face was pinched and sour, but he exchanged a glance with Anderson and nodded with a sigh. "That is acceptable."

"Very well," said Velarn. "Advisor Vakarian?"

There was a confused roil of emotions boiling in his chest. "I already have responsibilities within the Hierarchy," he said, hardly believing he was hearing the words.

Sparatus interrupted. "Spectre status would supplement those duties, rather than supplant them. Your superiors believed you would be capable of handling the additional responsibility."

"I..." He trailed off, imagining what it would take to coordinate Hierarchy defenses and serve on the _Normandy_ again.

"Take the night to think about it, if you prefer," said Tevos, surprisingly kindly. "It's no small task, but I don't believe there's ever been anyone else nominated for Spectre on three separate occasions. Please give it serious consideration."

He gathered his wits to him and straightened in his seat. "Thank you. I'll let you know my decision tomorrow."

* * *

The meeting lasted for a short while after that, the Councilors hashing out tentative details and limits on the cooperation between powers, but Garrus could not focus on it, and was grateful when it ended. He made his way back to the sterile hotel room and sat at the chair in front of the wide window, watching the streak and blur of traffic and trying to think.

When he was younger and his name had first come up for Spectre candidacy, he'd been elated. The ugliness and injustice of some of the things he'd seen in the military had pricked at him, and he'd wanted the ability to do something about them. The life of a Spectre had seemed perfectly suited for that personal ambition. There had also been more than a little ego driving that eagerness - he was good, and he'd known it, and had wanted something to challenge him. His father had headed him off though, had talked him into C-Sec as an alternative that would still challenge him, still let him help people, but wouldn't estrange him from his family. Over time, he'd grown to resent that advice.

The second time his name had been submitted was after the mess with Saren when Shepard had written him a recommendation. He'd thought he had a better idea of what he was in for that time. He'd seen Shepard work, knew that being a Spectre wasn't a license to operate totally without oversight, knew that it was difficult and isolated and short on resources and long on consequences. He'd still wanted to do it. He'd gone back to C-Sec to wait for the verdict, confident that this time, he'd be going into the right career for the right reasons. And he'd still pulled up stakes and left for Omega when Shepard had died and everything had fallen apart.

This time... he wasn't sure. He still _wanted_ it, no question about that. But was he suited for it? He was a capable individual. He knew that and he worked hard for it. But he had a history with responsibility and authority that he was equally aware of. And the specific role that the Council wanted him to fill raised a lot of questions. Maintaining his current position as advisor while serving on the _Normandy_ would be challenging, to say the least. To some extent, he could delegate, and many of the larger projects were already underway and could run without his direct supervision. His team knew what they were doing and he could trust them to handle day-to-day matters without a problem, but it was still a daunting prospect. Then there was the matter of sharing command with Shepard. He'd helped her plan missions and manage the daily routine of the _Normandy_ before, but always as a subordinate. He wasn't honestly sure if he was up to the task of commanding beside her as an equal. Leaving aside the knotty question of ability, it required a certain distance and objectivity, as well as a rapport. Uneasily, he suspected that his relationship with Shepard might make it too easy to compromise that.

There was no room for mistakes here. He'd screwed up badly before, due in large part to his own hubris. If he misjudged his own capabilities now, the consequences were unthinkable.

And despite all that, he wanted, badly, to accept.

He chased his thoughts fruitlessly for a long time, coming to no firm conclusion. He knew there were many, many problems with the idea of becoming a Spectre, but his hindbrain was alight with over a decade of frustrated ambition finally seeing its chance at fulfillment. It was, he feared, too long-held a dream for him to consider objectively. He needed another opinion from someone who could lay out all the logical reasons this wasn't a good idea. He hesitated a long moment, and then, before he could have second thoughts, brought up his omni-tool interface and punched through a call to his father.

"Vakarian."

It was late in Cipritine, but he was not particularly surprised to see that his father was still in his study. He looked startled to see him.

"Garrus. Is everything all right?"

"The Council wants me to be a Spectre," he blurted out.

There was a long, frozen moment where they stared blankly at each other across thousands of light-years. Finally, his father's icy demeanor cracked. Several expressions passed fleetingly over his features, too fast for Garrus to tell what they were. At last, he settled into something like resignation, mandibles slack and eyes half closed.

"Well. I did say that I regretted talking you out of it. Are you going to accept?"

That calm response knocked the breath out of him. He stared momentarily before deciding not to question it. "I don't know," he said, slowly. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

He father threw him a shrewd look. "You've never expressed hesitancy over a Spectre appointment before," he said, with a faint note of censure hiding in his sub-tones.

"They want me to lead a mission with Shepard, in addition to my current responsibilities. My involvement with Shepard complicates matters. And, well," he said with a self-deprecating laugh, "we both know that I'm not exactly classic command material."

His father considered. "I can't advise you on your relationship with Shepard," he said after a moment, looking intensely uncomfortable. "You're the only one who can judge whether it will be a problem. As for command..." he paused, mandibles flickering in and out. "You're _not_ classic command material." He stopped, examining Garrus minutely. At last he sighed. "I made a lot of mistakes with you and Solana. They seem to all be coming home now."

"Dad..." he began, stunned. His father was a proud man, and it was surreal to hear him admit to a mistake.

"Hear me out," his father interrupted. "You've done a lot of things I don't approve of. I don't pretend to understand exactly why you did them, or how things came to that point, but the fact remains that you did them." He took a breath. "Since you've come home, you've accomplished more than I ever expected of you. I'm _proud_ of what you've done recently, and it's difficult for me to reconcile that with what I know you've done in the past. But regardless of whether or not I approve, you've done what you did competently."

Garrus flinched. "I would hardly call the end of my career on Omega competent."

His father's gaze bored into him. "You misjudged one situation after almost two years of successful high-risk operations in hostile territory. That's dangerously competent." He glanced away. "You're too willing to question orders and take risks to suit a traditional command. But you've already proven yourself as an independent agent. And," he said, with some exasperation, "you seem hellbent on doing it with or without any kind of official sanction." He sighed and met Garrus' eyes again. "Spectre work is not what I would have wanted for you. It's damned dangerous, and there's too much leeway to take the law into your own hands. But you're an adult, and I can't make your choices for you. If you want to do it, I'd say you're capable."

Garrus sat still, mandibles working soundlessly as he strove to take in the enormity of that confession. "Thank you," he said at last. "I... that means a lot, coming from you."

There was an awkward silence between them, and then his father shifted uncomfortably. "Your mother's already in bed, or I'd pass you on to her. But give us a call tomorrow. Regardless of what you decide."

Likely as close to a blessing as his father would ever come. "I will," he breathed, and shook himself out of his daze. "I won't keep you up. Take care of yourself."

"You as well." His father nodded and the connection terminated.

He sat still for a while, a lightness in his thoughts that hadn't been there for some time. The same worries crowded his mind, but they had been unbalanced, tipped over into a new configuration, and he could see parts of them that hadn't been visible before. The prospect of serving as a Spectre in the capacity the Council wanted was no less intimidating. But everyone besides him - even his _father_ - seemed to think it was within his capabilities. And damn it, Victus had been right about him being restless. Maybe this would take the edge off, let him better focus on all his responsibilities.

There was still the matter of commanding with Shepard. But perhaps his trepidation there was unfounded. They were both professionals, and they'd never had a problem working together as soldiers. If things went badly, they were both capable of putting aside personal matters to do what needed to be done. It was uncharted territory, but there was a part of him that wanted to explore that newness with Shepard, to rise to the challenge and learn how to be a partner to her.

And perhaps, he thought, with sudden insight, he owed it to Shepard. She'd taken the Reapers as her personal responsibility almost since he'd known her. She'd been the spearpoint and focus of every action against them. It was a tremendous burden for one person to bear, but maybe here was a chance to take some of the weight off her.

He let the thoughts settle, looked them over thoroughly, trying to judge his own blindspots. There was more than a little nervousness to the decision, but also excitement and a bone-deep sense of purpose and conviction. He opened his omni-tool interface again and typed out a message to Sparatus, read it over and then over again before he pressed 'send.'

_ Councilor,_

_ I accept the nomination._

_-G.V._

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AN: Thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading, and everyone who's reading this._  
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	10. Chapter 10

The _Normandy_'s cockpit was awash in light, her viewing window dominated by the angry glare of a dying star. They'd followed Miranda's coordinates out here to this backwater of the Horsehead Nebula where the red giant Anadius boiled itself away, waiting for a long, cold death. It was too bright to pick out objects against the glare, even with the heavy filtering of the _Normandy_'s windows, but the ship's sensors saw a minute, regularly-shaped dimness orbiting the star.

A space station.

Joker whistled softly at her side. "That must be a hell of a radiation shield they've got."

"Indeed," said EDI. "There is a significant amount of environmental radiation present which greatly complicates analysis of the station's thermal emissions."

"Can you get anything off it?" asked Shepard.

"The size and shape of the station indicate a number of hangars that most likely house a fleet of between fifty and one hundred fighter craft. I am unable to provide any further information without the use of active scans, which would likely alert them to our presence."

She pinched her lips together. "All right. Joker, get us out of here."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

The ship heeled about and they jumped into FTL flight with a deep hum and a flicker of blue over the cockpit, leaving Anadius behind. Shepard turned and headed for the comm room to inform the Admiral.

* * *

"An entire fighter wing. A hard nut to crack," mused Hackett. "A direct assault will be an expensive proposition." His lips thinned and he met her eyes, expression grim and predatory. "And it won't get us what we want. We're doing some digging on our end as well, and I don't like what we're finding. The extent of Cerberus' influence is troubling. We need to know exactly what they've had a hand in and where their agents are. We need records and personnel who can tell us all their dirty little secrets. A direct assault on the station risks destroying that information. I'd like to handle this with more finesse."

"Understood, sir."

"The _Normandy_'s stealth systems give us a shot at getting a team close enough to infiltrate and neutralize their fighters before they become a problem, but it's damned risky without knowing anything about the station's interior." He paced back and forth across the stage in a slow, measured walk, but kept his eyes on her. "Your former associate, Miranda Lawson. Is she trustworthy?"

Shepard gave the question due consideration. There had been a great deal of respect between herself and Miranda towards the end, but she couldn't say they'd ever become friends. "Lawson is principled," she said after a moment. "She's tipped us off to Cerberus twice now. She's no friend of theirs."

"Get in touch with her. Lean on her. Offer her immunity if she'll cooperate. We need all the intel we can get."

"I'll do what I can, sir. If Lawson's trying to stay off the radar, she'll be difficult to track down."

"Commander, she got a message through to your inbox when it should have been zipped up tighter than an asari commando's leathers. She's keeping tabs on you. If you go looking for her, she'll show up."

A reminder that she was under observation from all quarters. It woke a flicker of resentment in her, hastily buried. "Yes sir. I'll get Dr. T'Soni working on it."

"Good. I'll await your report. Hackett out."

* * *

It took Liara a suspiciously short amount of time to get ahold of Miranda, and Shepard was forced to conclude that Hackett had been right. Now she, Liara, and Ashley stood side-by-side in the comm room, waiting for Miranda's call. She'd asked Liara to be present because of her resources as Shadow Broker. Ashley was there to make sure that the negotiations were above-board. Both of them stood outside the viewing window of the comm, invisible to the person on the other side.

The comm flickered, and Miranda appeared, hip cocked and arms crossed. The pose might be mistaken for casual, if not for the stiffness of her shoulders.

"Shepard. This had better be important."

"Easy, Miranda. You know I wouldn't risk compromising your location just to chat."

Miranda stared at her motionlessly for a moment, and then some of the tension bled out of her stance. "I know," she said. Her voice turned brisk again. "What is it? I don't have much time."

"We followed your coordinates. We found the station."

"Then I'm afraid I don't see the problem."

"We need more intel. A direct assault will be a bloodbath. If we infiltrate and ground their fleet, we can take the station with minimal casualties, but we need more information to do it."

Miranda was silent for a moment. "Shepard, you don't know what you're asking. I'm stretched thin as it is trying to keep my father's agents away from my sister. If it becomes obvious that I helped you, she'll become a target for Cerberus too."

_Here it comes. _Shepard met Miranda's eyes with all the conviction she could muster. Miranda had her principles, but she'd been loyal to Cerberus for a long time. "An infiltration would allow us to seize Cerberus files and personnel. They'll have bigger problems to worry about than you and Oriana. The Alliance would be able to shut them down for good."

For a long while, Miranda regarded her, expression cool and sphinx-like. Finally, she exhaled. "Immunity for me. Alliance protection for my sister and her family – _without_ disrupting their lives. If you can do that, I'll help you infiltrate the station myself."

Shepard felt her shoulders relax. "I don't think it will be a problem."

"Good." Miranda's chin lifted as she rearmed herself with her customary confidence. "I'll contact you again when it's next safe for me to do so. If the arrangements have been made, we'll proceed from there."

The hologram flickered into static, and the comm channel shut down. Ashley stepped forward to stand at her side, frowning.

"Thinks highly of herself, doesn't she."

Shepard frowned thoughtfully. "With good reason. She's an extremely capable woman."

"Indeed," remarked Liara quietly. "She was a top Cerberus operative for years. The best of the best."

Ashley shook her head. "Can we trust her? What if she turns right back around and tells them we're coming for them?"

"I don't think we have to worry about that. The Illusive Man crossed a line when he threatened her sister. She might not disagree with some of Cerberus' principles, but she won't work with them again."

"I get that," Ashley replied after a moment, her expression drawn. "But I still don't like it."

"Shepard," Liara interjected. "I have a few agents in the area. I can assist in keeping her family secure while the Alliance makes arrangements."

She felt a wave of gratitude for Liara's sense of timing. "Thank you. Do it. I'll inform command of the situation."

* * *

Three days later, Shepard met Miranda Lawson at the airlock as she boarded the _Normandy_ again.

"Shepard."

"Miranda. Welcome aboard."

That bought her the faint edge of smile. Miranda in person looked much the same as she always had. Precisely dressed, scrupulously kempt, cool and confident. But the shadows under her eyes seemed deeper, and there was a straight set to her mouth that hadn't been there before.

They made their way to the briefing room where the others waited without speaking further. It was one of the things Shepard had always liked about Miranda: she put business first, and did not waste time with pleasantries until it was concluded.

All eyes turned to them as the door opened, and Shepard wondered briefly whether Miranda harbored any resentment over being treated with suspicion on a ship she'd been the XO of not long ago. If she did, she gave no sign of it, and the room slowly settled as they took their seats and she made introductions.

"Miranda Lawson. Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams and Lieutenant James Vega. You've met Dr. Liara T'Soni briefly before. And you know EDI, of course."

Miranda blinked, her composure momentarily disrupted. "EDI?"

"I have acquired a mobile platform. It has been useful in interfacing with the human crew."

"I see," she said drily after a moment, raising a brow and sending an arch glance Shepard's way.

Shepard cleared her throat. "What can you tell us, Miranda?"

Miranda stood and keyed in a sequence of her omni-tool and a view of the Cerberus station flared to life on the briefing room's projector.

"Cronos station serves as Cerberus' headquarters. It houses a number of laboratories where some of Cerberus' most ambitious projects are carried out, as well as a command center – here - where the Illusive Man directs Cerberus operations."

"That's where we need to go, then," said Shepard.

Miranda nodded briskly. "That's where the most valuable information will be, yes."

James spoke up. "What about the Illusive Man himself?"

Miranda hesitated. "It is possible, I suppose. He is... attached to Cronos station, and it allows him to oversee things more easily than elsewhere."

"But you don't think we'll find him there," said Liara.

"No," she said decisively. "I don't. He's been playing this game far too long to be caught so easily."

"He's only human," Ashley said. "He's got to slip up sometime."

"Perhaps," Miranda replied. After a moment, she continued. "The station is defended by a large security force and a fleet of fighter craft."

"Can we ground that fleet?" Shepard asked.

EDI's cool voice interrupted. "It may be feasible. It is standard practice to house spacecraft launch routines on a dedicated physical network for reasons of robustness and security. However, if I am able to gain physical access to the system, I may be able to block fighter launch codes."

"Let's see a close-up of the flight deck," Shepard said.

Miranda obligingly zoomed in and they all leaned in to inspect the details. The flight deck projected from the station like the blade of a knife, its edges lined with dozens of small, roughly oval-shaped fighter bays.

The bays were all roughly similar in layout, with a craft elevator to the rear of the room, a catwalk along the walls on three sides, and a control room on the far wall, with a door at its back leading through a short hallway to the next bay. The layout of the first bay, closest to the station's main bulk, differed slightly. At the back of the room, slightly to the left of the craft elevator, out of the way of the fighter's exhaust, lay a personnel entrance leading out to the secondary airlock separating the flight deck from the station's main body. A series of safety barriers surrounded it, providing some minimal protection for the flight deck crew in case of an accident.

"Can we isolate one of these bays while we gain access to the network?" Shepard asked.

"Isolating one bay may prove difficult," replied EDI. "I may be able to override local security alarms, but we will have a limited window of time before the anomaly is noticed. If we gain access to a terminal on the air traffic control network, however, I may be able to induce an emergency lockdown of the flight deck."

Shepard hummed thoughtfully to herself. "A little time is all we need. Just enough of a window to let boarding teams approach."

Even so, the bay presented a dangerous target for a single team. The wide-open space provided little cover and there would be no chance of slipping in unnoticed.

Ashley leaned forward for a closer look, frowning, and tapped a finger at the catwalk. "If they're smart, they'll have men up here."

"Not going to be pretty, once they know we're there," said James. "Not much in the way of cover."

"EDI, you're sure there's no other way to shut down those fighters?"

"Yes. Physical access to a terminal on the air traffic control network is required."

"Shepard," Miranda said. "I suggest we follow the strategy we used at the Collector base. I could lead a distraction team to target the communications center here," she pointed at a large room at the opposite side of the station from the flight deck, "drawing attention away from the flight deck."

"What makes you think we'll trust you to lead anything?" interjected Ashley.

"Some of the access codes I possess may still be active, and some of the personnel on the station may know me." She paused and then continued in a softer voice. "Most of these people are civilian researchers. Good people. If I offer them a chance to surrender peacefully, they may take advantage of it."

"Why would your codes still be active?" asked Liara.

"Cerberus was not aware of all the codes I possessed," Miranda replied, somewhat stiffly.

"It's not a bad plan," Shepard said. She met Miranda's eyes across the table. "Miranda, you'll go with an Alliance escort and maintain constant radio contact. If anything goes wrong, we'll abort the operation and the Alliance will proceed with the strike on the station."

Miranda nodded. "Of course."

An hour later, they had ironed out most of the kinks, and the plan was as ready as they could make it. The rest of the crew filed out, leaving Shepard and Miranda alone in the room.

"How are you doing?" she asked quietly. "You don't look so good."

"Things have been difficult," Miranda replied. She exhaled sharply. "I should have anticipated it. I just..."

"You didn't expect to have Cerberus working against you."

"No. I didn't." She replied after a moment. "It's hard to believe it's come to this. I know some of the research Cerberus did in the past was unethical. But there are good people in the organization, and so much of the work we did was right and necessary."

_I doubt it,_ Shepard thought grimly, remembering Corporal Toombs' hands shaking as he pressed a pistol to the forehead of a man in Cerberus uniform. "They're extremists," she said aloud. "Organizations like that don't have a good track record."

Miranda's lips twisted. "At time it seemed reasonable. We – humanity – needed someone to take the steps that the Alliance was too cautious to take. Fortune favors the bold."

"And fools rush in where angels fear to tread," she returned sharply.

Miranda gave her a bitter smile. "I suppose you're right."

The silence lay heavy on them for a minute before Shepard stood. "Come on. Liara's using your old quarters, but there's a free bunk next to Daniels that you can crash on." It would keep Miranda in plain sight of the Alliance crew, and Daniels could run interference if need be.

She got a nod and a weary smile in return. She was utterly sure that Miranda understood the calculation behind that choice. "Of course, Shepard."

* * *

"I still think you're all crazy," said Joker. "But, hey, that's why you get paid the big bucks." He glanced away from the controls a second to meet her eyes. "Be careful out there, Commander." He hesitated, and tugged his cap a little further down over his eyes. "And keep an eye on EDI, will you?"

"I will." Gently, she clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm heading down to the shuttle bay. Let us know when we're set to go."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

She took one last look at the angry blaze of Anadius and left the cockpit.

Inside the dark shuttle, she waited, tense and quiet, shoulder to shoulder with the rest of her team. The shuttle next to them held Miranda and her team, equally silent. At last, Joker's voice echoed over the PA.

"We're at drop-point. Bay doors opening in five... four... three... two... one. You are on your way. Good luck, Commander."

It felt as if nothing had happened, and then they saw the edges of the _Normandy_'s hull rise past them as the shuttle drifted out of the bay, continuing its trajectory to the Cerberus station. Gradually, it grew closer, the journey eerily silent without the hum of the shuttle's engines and instruments. None of them breathed a word, tensely aware that all Cerberus had to do was look out a window to realize they weren't just space junk.

"We should now be within their emissions envelope," said EDI at last.

Shepard relaxed slightly. "All right, James. Take her in. Lawson, you're good to go."

"Aye aye, ma'am." The shuttle's hull shook as her engines flared to life, the cabin lit with the dim glow of the instruments.

Miranda's voice came in over the comm, tinny and distant. "We are en route. Stand by."

"Roger that. See you on the other side, Miranda."

"We'll meet you there."

James brought the shuttle up alongside a small maintenance hatch on the underside of the station, away from any windows. The shuttle's magnetic arms extended and they docked with a jar, silent in the breathlessness of space, and set to work cutting through the door. Ashley forced it open with a cloud of escaping atmosphere and they hurried through, shutting it behind them and sealing it with a hasty omni-gel quick-weld. They found themselves in a dark tunnel, lit by the red glare of the atmosphere leak alarm and a faint scattering of maintenance lighting. A quick surgery on the alarm panel left them in almost complete darkness. They set off immediately, fast and quiet, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the ruptured airlock as possible.

"Status, Lawson?"

"We're inside. We'll make contact in the next few minutes."

They had arrived at a ladder leading up to a hatch. Shepard crept up below it, listening, and cautiously pried up one corner when she heard nothing. It stayed quiet, and she could see no sign that anyone was there, so she pushed it up the rest of the way and waved the others forward.

They emerged into a sparse, empty room lined with bunks, with a row of terminals occupying the far wall. A burst of fire sounded over the comm as they checked the door.

"Contact, Commander."

"I hear you. We're on our way."

The station PA clicked on from somewhere above them. "Security breach on Deck 15. All available personnel please report immediately," said a cool female voice.

"That's our cue," said Shepard. Ashley caught her eye, a quick, sharp grin passing between them, and for the moment at least, they were back in step with each other. "Let's make that elevator. Quick and quiet."

They got to the elevator that would drop them at the flight deck airlock without incident. They had to take their chances going through the halls where anyone could see them, but luck was on their side for once. The deck they were on was labeled as civilian dormitories on the station map, and appeared to be mostly empty at the moment. They met no one in the halls, though they heard the occasional murmur of voices behind the closed doors they passed. The quiet was belied by the crackle of gunfire over the comm channel from Miranda's team and the repeated announcements over the station PA directing security teams to Deck 15 and instructing civilians to remain in place until further orders.

The ride up was silent and tense, and when the cab slid to a smooth halt, they all set themselves in front of the door, waiting. The doors slid open with a ding and they barreled outside in one mass, overrunning the guards stationed by the elevator. There was a startled shout, and the one on Shepard's side brought his weapon around to bear on them before Shepard shot him point blank. EDI's arm blurred past her and yanked Ashley out of the path of an omni-blade that would have torn her throat out. There was a sharp report as Ashley fired her weapon, and then they were through the personnel entrance. There were shouts and the rapid thud of footsteps above them on the catwalk and a scramble ahead of them, where she could see the ladder leading up, but they were clear for the moment.

"EDI, with me!"

She vaulted the low barricade, and heard the metallic whir and thud as EDI whipped over it alongside her. They sprinted along the walls under the catwalk, grabbing what cover they could, weaving erratically to throw off the aim of the guards she could see on the catwalk. There was a shout behind them from where the others were - Liara's voice, damn it - but there was no time to turn, some bastard with an automatic was strafing along the wall with them and her shields were crackling and dying under it. EDI put a bullet through the head of a man who ducked out of cover in front of them, and finally they'd made it out of the automatic's line of fire, pelting towards the ladder to the catwalk. One man dove out of their way, his shields absorbing her fire, skidding into the cover of a supply closet. The other man at the ladder was not as lucky - his shields lasted for two shots before one of EDI's rounds tore into his side. They were taking fire now from the other side of the room, and she could hear movement on the catwalk directly above their heads.

The PA clicked on again, startling amidst the gunfire. "This is Operative Miranda Lawson. All agents stand down, repeat, stand down! Alliance Navy has boarded the station. If you surrender peacefully, you will not be harmed!"

There was an instant of confusion among the enemy, and that was all Shepard needed. "Go!" she barked, jerking her head towards the ladder. EDI launched herself up the rungs while Shepard stayed at the ladder's foot, covering her ascent. There was a series of shots from above and the ping and tear of metal, and then EDI's return fire, scattering the steps above the ladder's mouth.

Miranda's voice came in over the comm again. "Shepard. We have seized the communications center. We will attempt to hold this position until boarding parties have landed."

"Acknowledged. Hold out as long as you can and then head for the rendezvous point."

"Will do, Commander."

Shepard grimly exchanged fire with a man on the catwalk opposite them, buying EDI time and counting the seconds until she could get up that ladder and back into cover, her ears filled with the thud of her heart and the angry electronic snarl of the last fifteen percent of her shields.

There was a crash from her left side, and she swung around as a bulky shape emerged from the supply closet and ponderously swiveled to face her.

_Shit._

She leapt for the ladder, scrambling up it as fast as she could, a hail of large-calibre rounds punching holes in the deck where she'd just been. "ATLAS on the field," she snarled into the comm. "He's focused on me right now."

"On it," replied Ashley, followed by a thunderous crack as she fired her rifle.

Shepard breached the top of the ladder and rolled to the side, pressing herself against the wall opposite EDI. A trio of bodies lay scattered around the ladder's mouth, and EDI was exchanging fire with a pair of guards at the far end of the room. Shepard's angle let her take out the one directly across from EDI, and EDI took advantage, advancing and forcing the remaining guard to retreat. Below, Shepard could hear the crash and thud of the ATLAS' footsteps, and the steady, metronome fire of Ashley's rifle in return. They pressed their way forward, herding their opponents before them. Finally on level ground, they made short work of the remaining men on the catwalk. A sharp crash announced that one of Ashley's shots had breached the ATLAS' cockpit, and the mech's footsteps came to an abrupt halt. The chamber was left eerily silent, but for the rasp of Shepard's breath and the hammering of her heart in her ears.

"Status, Ash?" she inquired.

"All clear, Commander. Liara took a hit, but she'll make it."

"I'm all right," said Liara, sounding pained, but alert.

"Good," she said firmly, feeling a wash of relief that everyone had come through relatively unscathed. "Stay down there for now and keep an eye on the elevator."

"Aye aye, Commander," returned Ashley.

EDI had already stationed herself at a terminal, fingers flying through the interface too fast to follow.

"Hull breach emergency protocol initiated," she said after a moment. "No exterior access to the flight deck is permitted. Airlock hardware interlocks engaged. Craft elevators offline. Beginning launch code overwrite."

"Well done." Shepard spoke into the comm. "Everybody hear that?"

"Yes ma'am. On our way."

A predatory grin split Shepard's face, despite the aches and pains that were starting to make themselves known. "EDI. Call up the fleet and let them know we're standing by."

"Yes, Commander." A pause. "Message relayed. Squadron SMB-138 has started their approach. Time to dock approximately five minutes."

A bang and a shout sounded at the door to the control room, just as Ash cleared the ladder.

"Everyone on that door," Shepard barked. "We've got to hold this place until reinforcements arrive."

"Aye, Commander," said Ashley, settling into the cover of a file cabinet and taking aim at the door.

"Lawson, you copy that? Boarding squad ETA is five minutes."

"Roger, Commander. We are maintaining position."

Liara made it up the ladder next, James boosting her from behind. Carefully, Shepard looked her over. She was a little pale, and there was a hasty armor patch over her right bicep, but she was alert and moving well, aside from the arm.

"You all right?" she asked quietly.

Liara gave her a small smile. "I will be fine, Shepard. It is superficial."

James leaned around her and clapped a hand heartily on Liara's other shoulder, grinning. "Yeah, you should have seen it, Commander. She took out three of them at once, by herself!"

Liara rocked back on her feet, looking startled and a little embarrassed, and Shepard felt a brief, unexpected grin pull at her features.

"Nicely done. Take care of that arm and stick to support for the rest of the mission."

Liara nodded. "Yes, Commander."

The door jarred again, and they all settled into a grim wait, listening to the growing commotion behind the door with one eye to the airlock. Two minutes passed, and then three, and with a breath of relief she saw a storm of blue lights blink into the space around the station. The Alliance Marines 138th Boarding Squadron drifted closer, great ships clearly visible against the stark blackness, and then a swarm of shuttles descended from their bellies, like hornets bursting from a hive.

The door jarred as something impacted it from the other side, and then she heard the tell-tale hum of a plasma cutter. She and the others readied themselves, crouched to catch the intruders in their crossfire when they made it through. The floor shuddered under her feet as the shuttles began to land, and a new voice sounded over the comm.

"Commander, this is SMB-138's Lieutenant Lannigan reporting."

A grin crooked her mouth, even as the searing glare of the cutter lanced through the door's seal. "Good to have some company, Lannigan. Get your people up on the catwalk, they're about to break through up here."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

In seconds, there were other bodies surrounding theirs, weapons trained on the door. Below, more soldiers crowded the elevator. Finally, the door in front of them flew open, and there was the blinding, angry chaos of close-quarters fire and shields. The men behind the doors fell back, not expecting such heavy resistance, and Shepard's team dove after them.

* * *

The Alliance took the flight deck in short order, and EDI released the airlock and elevators, leaving them free to push onward into the heart of the station. They chased Cerberus through the labyrinth of the station's hallways, EDI providing a steady flow of intel on enemy movements and communications broadcasted over the Alliance channel. Other teams were on the hunt with them, a constant flow of comm chatter keeping them all informed of who was where. The battle was fast-paced, intense, with only time to see and react, adrenaline and reflexes driving them on.

Cerberus forces fought with an unquestioning, selfless intensity that set a chill of wrongness up Shepard's spine. She'd seen people willing to die for ideals before – hell, she'd been one of them before. But even when you were willing to make that sacrifice, you kept yourself alive as long as you could, just on nerve and hope and sheer fucking instinct. The Cerberus soldiers didn't have that instinct – they sacrificed themselves for tactical advantage where necessary, and they did it without a single twitch or backward glance.

Even the civilians on the station weren't immune. Miranda's message was still looping over the PA. In most raids Shepard had been on, that lure of safety would have been enough to ensure cooperation from civilians. But here, a good half of the civilians they met – scientists and maintenance workers and technicians, people who had never been military, never picked up a gun before in their _lives_ – they all stood their ground and faced them. Shepard gunned them down, one by one, a cold fury growing in her, certain that these people had been coerced somehow, brainwashed or indoctrinated.

They pushed through towards the rendezvous point, in the labs directly under the Illusive Man's control room. The laboratories were now abandoned, a forest of terminals and servers humming around them, glass from a shattered divider crunching under their feet. Another team had come through earlier, and the place was empty and quiet, but for the noise of their passage and the distant bark of gunfire.

There was another crunch of boots on broken glass from the other side of the room, and they all turned to face the intruder, weapons at the ready.

"Shepard," said Miranda.

"Miranda." She relaxed, lowering her rifle, and heard the others do the same behind her after a second. "Well done."

She meant it. While Miranda had always been an able combatant and a good leader, she was not military and did not have the trust of the men with her. It was evident that her squad had taken serious fire. One man was limping and another looked as if his arm might be broken. Miranda herself carried an ugly gash down her forearm. That all were alive was a testament to her skill.

"The control room is directly above us. We'll need to head out that way and then up past the atrium."

Shepard nodded. "All right. Let's move."

All headed to the far side of the laboratory, and EDI placed a hand on the lock interface.

"We are nearing the most secure areas of the station. It will take some time to bypass security to the next level." She paused, before adding neutrally, "If you wish, there is information in this laboratory that you may find interesting."

Shepard raised an eyebrow at that. "What kind of information?"

"There are a number of records relating to Project Lazarus."

She took a deep breath against the cold knot forming in her gut._ The Alliance doctors looked at me. I know what the score is. I'm not going to see anything I don't already know._ She felt a cowardly, shameful urge to not look, and ruthlessly suppressed it.

EDI watched her, expression neutral. After a moment, she said, "There are also records pertaining to my own development." Shepard wondered if there was a sort of sympathy in that offer, an exchange of histories between two R&D projects.

Miranda's voice broke in. "We don't have the time to look through all that. Save the files if you must and review them later." She caught Shepard's eye and lifted her chin in a slight motion up and away from the terminal, and Shepard was sure there was more to it than that.

She gave her a short nod. Miranda might play her cards close to the chest, but she never did anything without a solid reason. "Miranda's right. Download anything of interest and I'll take a look when the mission's over."

"Yes, Shepard," EDI replied.

Finally, they breached the door and they stepped into the large chamber directly under the command center. Shepard took an involuntary step back as she took in the scene, hearing the others do the same around her.

A network of stairs and catwalks ran up into the cavernous heights of the room, supports stretching up like the pillars of a cathedral. A tangle of rigging, half-finished, hung in their center, and on the floor below it, a massive shape rested amidst a spiderweb of wires, pulsing dully.

For a moment, she was frozen still by shock and anger. She caught her breath to speak, but Miranda beat her to it, her voice thin and dangerous.

"I don't believe this. He took it. All those people _died_ and he took it home like a trophy."

"Ma'am, what _is_ that?" said Ashley, staring up at it.

"It's part of the Reaper we found on the Collector base," Shepard replied tightly. "I thought we'd destroyed it."

"The Illusive Man must have begun a salvage operation," murmured Liara. "Goddess."

"You surprised?" muttered James, staring at it. "Going by what we've seen so far, I don't think this guy believes in playing it safe."

"Shepard," EDI said. "Cerberus is attempting to install the Reaper's core as a secondary power plant. The process is incomplete."

The heart – the core – pulsed again, slowly, with a deep throb of sound. It was a far cry from the thing they'd killed in the Collector base, but the thought of it at her back was still unnerving. "Can you take it offline?"

"I believe so. The command signal can be disconnected easily."

"Do it," she said shortly. "As soon as we clear the room."

"Yes, Shepard."

They cautiously moved out from under the shelter of the entrance. A shout rang out from above and a hail of fire rained down on their position. Their attackers were barely visible in the gloom of the room, but they returned fire and carefully, methodically began to thin their numbers. Once again, Shepard was struck by their opponents' behavior. They concentrated on the attack, taking more risks than they should have and failing to effectively use the advantage higher ground gave them.

_"Indoctrinated forces lose their competence,"_ said Saren's voice in her head from a distance of ages ago. She pressed her lips into a thin line and took another shot.

They pushed their enemies back and up, picking them off one by one. It was a frantically paced fight, but far easier than it should have been. Finally, a shot rang out and the last man slumped over the guard rail above them, leaving them alone in the room, now silent but for the bone-shaking hum of the Reaper's heart.

Wordlessly, EDI approached it, omni-tool alight. After a few seconds, she stepped closer and forcefully pulled a cable from the core, severing the connector with the blade of her omni-tool so that it could not be reattached. The core's dim glow remained, but the pulsing ceased.

"The command center should be just ahead," said Miranda after a moment.

Shepard nodded sharply. "Let's go."

* * *

The door opened to a view she'd seen a dozen times before from the other end of a secure comm channel. The vast, angry roil of Anadius' surface filled the window stretching across the room's outer wall, starkly silhouetting the lone chair in the room's center. In front of it stood the Illusive Man's hologram image, staring out at her with cold eyes.

"Shepard," he said, in the same business-like tone he always used, as if this meeting were like all those before. "You have me at a disadvantage." He took a drag on the cigarette. "My compliments to your handlers."

"Stow it," she said curtly. "End of the line. Cerberus is done. "

A flicker of anger passed over his features, quickly controlled. "You may be right. You've destroyed lifetimes of work. With the war coming, it's unlikely that we'll recover." The corner of his mouth lifted in a cold smile, entirely without humor. "Don't kid yourself, though. The work we did was necessary, and the Alliance will pick it up where we left off."

She took a step forward. "'Necessary,'" she said, flatly. "You think what you did to the people who worked for you was _necessary_?"

"You're damned right it was necessary." His voice was slightly raised, and that loss of control set her teeth on edge.

"You're an experienced officer, Shepard," he said, leaning forward. "You know how to estimate the odds. You were at the battle of the Citadel. You saw what the Reapers did to the Protheans. Do you think we can win against that? We needed a fleet to take down Sovereign. How will we fare against tens of Reapers? Hundreds? Thousands? Do you think we can win?"

She was silent for a moment. It was a familiar train of thought. "I think," she said at last, "that we're a damned sight better off fighting them than joining them."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't let your prejudices blind you. We need –"

Miranda strode forward. "_Look around you,_" she bit out. "The people here have been living and working at arm's distance from a dead Reaper for weeks. You don't bother with safety protocols when you handle Reaper tech. You're acting without thinking and you're making mistakes. You're not controlling anything: you're indoctrinated."

For an instant, Shepard thought Miranda might have broken through. His expression froze as if she'd slapped him, something nakedly afraid looking out through his eyes. Then it was gone. He stepped back, distancing himself, and took another slow drag on the cigarette.

"Miranda. You were a mistake. You had potential, but like your father, you're self-centered. Short-sighted." Deliberately, he turned away from Miranda to face Shepard again. "We can't defeat the Reapers conventionally. Learning to control them is our only option. I've done what needed to be done, and mark my words, the Alliance will continue where Cerberus left off now that we've done the dirty work for them. It is the only way to ensure that humanity survives."

"You're wrong" she said.

He stared at her one for one still second, and then stabbed out the cigarette. "Maybe you believe that now. You'll change your mind when the invasion comes. And when you do, I'll be waiting." He turned and walked out of the hologram, and Shepard was left breathing hard in an empty room, her team still and quiet behind her back.

Roughly, she jerked gestured toward the center of the room. "EDI, get what you can off that terminal and let Hackett know we've taken the command center."

* * *

"Yes, Shepard."

The fighting lasted a little while afterwards, but without their fleet, Cerberus didn't stand a chance against an Alliance boarding squadron. The battle had been won the moment they gained control of the flight deck. Everything that had come after was senseless slaughter, and it left a bad taste in Shepard's mouth.

Her team took one of the first shuttles off the base back to the _Normandy_. The ride back was quiet. They were all tired and sore, and the encounter with the Reaper's heart and the Illusive Man had cast a pall over any spirit of self-congratulation. Cerberus might be done for, but Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that their legacy would come back to bite them.

Was the Illusive Man right? Could a Reaper be controlled?

_He was right about our odds. The technology's advanced since the battle of the Citadel, but a fleet of hundreds of ships like Sovereign would crush us. If they could be controlled, it would do a lot to level the playing field. _She considered it, thinking of the husks and the fanatic resistance of the soldiers in that station and the Illusive Man's cracking facade of control. She let out a breath. Even if it could be done, the Reapers were far too good at controlling others for it to be trustworthy.

The doubt lingered, though, as she knew the Illusive Man had intended it should.

Later, after they had had a chance to wash the stink and gore of the battle off, there was a call over the intercom.

"Commander," Traynor's voice said. "Ms. Lawson would like to speak with you."

"Sent her up," she said, not surprised.

A few minutes later, the door chimed, and she let Miranda in. She had also cleaned up, and the wound on her forearm was sealed. She was calm and collected, but there was a fragile edge to her composure that Shepard had last seen just after they'd retrieved the Reaper IFF, when the Illusive Man had betrayed her for the first time.

"Shepard. Thank you for seeing me."

"No thanks necessary."

Miranda gave her a measuring look. "I had wondered, you know, whether you'd be willing to speak with me in private now that you've returned to the Alliance."

"You had my back on a suicide mission, Miranda. That counts for a lot more in my book than political convenience."

Miranda produced a thin smile. "Yes, I suppose it would. Your disregard for political expediency in the face of military necessity was one of the reasons we brought you back."

And now they arrived at the matter at hand. "Why didn't you want me to look at those files while we were on the station?"

Miranda shifted uneasily. "I don't know most of your team this time, Shepard. I don't know what they know about Project Lazarus, or where their loyalties lie. It seemed best not to risk a conflict." She hesitated a moment. "And," she said slowly, "it seemed kinder to let you review them in a setting where you could ask questions and I could answer."

She let out a slow breath. "Thank you." Her mouth quirked into a humorless smile to cover the dread settling into her bones. "I guess there's no point in putting it off. EDI?"

"The files have been downloaded to your private terminal, Shepard."

"Thank you."

She stepped to the terminal, and after a bare moment of hesitation, opened the first of the files queued on the screen.

She played all of them without speaking, feeling distanced and a little sick as the Illusive Man and a small army of medical professionals discussed the gruesome business of reanimating her corpse, keeping her features desperately neutral.

_"Clinically brain-dead... helmet kept the brain intact..."_

After it was done, she breathed in once and swallowed unsteadily, breathed again. Nothing worse than the doctors had told her, she knew logically, but somehow, the blunt discussion of what had been done to reconstruct her struck home in a way it hadn't before.

"Tell me the truth, Miranda," she distantly heard herself say, voice thin to her own ears. "Am I really who I think I am? Or am I just some clever program wearing Commander Shepard's face?"

There was a heartbeat of silence before Miranda replied. "The Lazarus project was extremely lucky. When I first assumed command, I expected that we would have to artificially compensate for large portions of Shepard's – your – neural function. It was a surprise when we discovered the central nervous system to be largely intact. We had to perform some organic reconstruction on areas relating to motor function and spatial awareness, but we did not interfere with areas relating to personality."

"That's good to hear," she said at last. And it was, but that sliver of doubt remained. She thought it might never really leave.

Miranda glanced away. "I regret that we did a poor job of preparing for the psychological ramifications of your resurrection. At the time it seemed most important to get you into the field, both to stop the Collectors and to prevent you from dwelling on it."

Shepard took a breath and gathered her wits. "It was probably the best you could have done. I wouldn't have trusted a Cerberus shrink."

Suddenly eager to get away from the topic, she scrolled down the list of files on the terminal screen to the ones marked as dealing with EDI's development.

"Were you involved with EDI at all?" she asked.

Miranda's mouth tightened, and for a moment Shepard thought she might refuse the deflection, but it passed and she leaned back in her chair.

"No. Another cell was responsible for her development. I was only made aware of her existence when she was installed in the _Normandy_."

Shepard hit the playback, and they watched another parade of reports. Much of the technical jargon flew over Shepard's head, but some things were damningly clear.

At the time, she'd wondered why a VI glitch on Luna required an elite squad to perform a manual shutdown, but she'd kept her suspicions on Alliance research into the shadowy border between VI and AI to herself. The real shock was what came after.

On the screen, the Illusive Man stepped back and took a long drag on his cigarette. _"We'll combine it with the pieces we recovered from the Citadel."_

She stopped the video abruptly. "'Pieces from the Citadel?'"

"Code and hardware recovered from Sovereign was instrumental in my construction," EDI responded placidly.

Shepard and Miranda exchanged a troubled glance. Perhaps it should not have come as a surprise. The only other AI she'd had contact with aside from the Reapers were the geth, and their networked intelligence was a far cry from EDI's singular personality.

"EDI," she said, after a moment. "Why did you want me to know this?"

"I judged it better to disclose the truth of my origins now, voluntarily, than to allow it to be discovered accidentally at a later date."

Perhaps for an AI, it all came down to probabilistic calculations of organic behavior. But from where Shepard was standing, it sounded a lot like trust. She let out a breath.

"Thank you, EDI. I appreciate it."

"You are welcome, Shepard."

There was a quiet click over the PA to let them know EDI was no longer listening. Miranda exhaled sharply.

"Damn it, Shepard, I should have guessed it earlier. He was experimenting with Reaper technology for years and I didn't see it before today."

"Would you have cared if you'd known about it earlier?" Shepard asked, genuinely curious.

Miranda ruminated on that for a while. "I would have at least urged greater caution, but, no, I would have said that using the enemy's weapons against them was the intelligent thing to do."

"And now?"

She leaned forward. "What happened today wasn't right. A lot of those people shouldn't have died. I _knew_ some of them – they should have surrendered. And to allow part of a Reaper to be housed in the station, unshielded…. The Illusive Man has lost perspective. Or perhaps he never really understood the threat in the first place."

"Saren thought that he could bargain with Sovereign," Shepard said bleakly. "He believed that because the Reapers were machines, they could be manipulated. And he kept believing it right up until the end."

A heavy silence settled over them. At length, Shepard stirred.

"What will you do now?" she asked. "Your sister and her family are secure. Your name is cleared. You could have a fresh start."

Miranda shook her head immediately. "No. There are too many loose ends. Too much remains to be done. I know you don't believe it, but there were good people in Cerberus doing good work. Someone needs to stand up for them. Maybe I can get to them first this time, give them a chance to surrender to the Alliance peacefully. We'll need them when the Reapers arrive."

Shepard nodded. "Just be careful."

"I always am."

* * *

"Well done, Commander." Hackett regarded her steadily, his expression almost relaxed. "It's unfortunate that the Illusive Man escaped, but the recovery of those files more than makes up for it. Our analysts are going through them as we speak." He straightened, hands behind his back. "Cerberus had infiltrated our government and military to a greater extent than we had thought. Those records you got us will be the end of them." The corner of his mouth lifted briefly. "Your Ms. Lawson has offered to assist."

"I'll be glad to see the last of them," she responded. Hackett briefly inclined his head, a polite acknowledgment of her unwilling involvement with Cerberus. "Sir, what about the Reaper technology recovered from the station?"

"It will be transported to a safer location and studied. His methods were unconscionable, but the Illusive Man was absolutely right about one thing. We're fighting blind right now. We'll take every scrap of knowledge we can, no matter where it came from or how it was acquired."

A chill went through her. "Those artifacts are dangerous. It's an accident waiting to happen."

"We're aware of the danger, Commander."

It made her uneasy, put her too much in mind of the casual way Cerberus had treated the Reapers and the Illusive Man's conviction that the Alliance would pick up where he left off, but she knew a dismissal when she heard it. "Yes sir."

Hackett met her eyes. "I understand your reservations, and I share them, but we know too little about the Reapers' capabilities. We can't afford to pass up the opportunity. I can assure you that every possible precaution is being taken to ensure the artifacts do not come in contact with personnel."

She forced the tension out of her shoulders. Hackett had placed a great deal of trust in her. She would have to reciprocate. "I understand, sir. What are my orders from here?"

He straightened, hands behind his back in easy parade rest. "I'm sorry to say you're being transferred out of my command, Shepard." She blinked in surprise. Was she being passed off to another branch of the Alliance as some political game piece?

"The Council has formally upheld your Spectre status. You'll report directly to them from here on out. You've been tapped to spearhead preparations for the Reaper invasion."

Shock blazed through her. "The Council has acknowledged the threat?"

Hackett inclined his head. "The evidence you and Advisor Vakarian gathered was persuasive. He'll be working with you on this mission. You'll find the details in your inbox. Report to the Citadel as soon as you're able. And Commander," he paused, and a subtle, genuine smile crossed his face, "consider your parole over. Hackett out."

.

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AN: Thanks to Cadmos for beta-reading this! This would not be nearly the story it is without his assistance. And thank you to everyone reading this - I'm glad people are enjoying it.


	11. Chapter 11

The_ Normandy_ docked at the Citadel almost a half a standard day before the meeting was scheduled. As soon as they were secure in their slip and the routine business of putting into port was underway, Shepard was out of the airlock, scanning the Alliance docks.

And there he was, tall and armored and sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of mostly humans, grinning that fierce, joyful smile she saw on him so rarely. She felt an answering smile break over her face, and pushed her way through the crowd to meet him. When she got there, they both just stood there awkwardly for a second, grinning like idiots as they simultaneously realized they'd never really talked about how they were going to play this thing between them in public. Then Garrus stuck his hand out and opened his mouth to make some smart remark, and Shepard thought, _Fuck it_, and grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight embrace.

It was uncomfortable with the armor, and brief, and nothing more than would be appropriate for a heartfelt reunion between good friends, but damn, it was good to lean into the solid weight of him for a moment and hear the breathy, surprised laugh he gave against her.

They separated, and she gave his shoulder a clout, still wearing her big, stupid grin. "So, Spectre, huh?"

And hadn't that been a surprise. She'd had to read that message a few times before it really sunk in. And then she'd spent a long time wondering just what the hell he'd been doing while she was locked up.

"Sworn in yesterday," he replied. There was a tightness about his eyes that said maybe that decision hadn't been as effortless as he was making out, but his voice was level and easy.

"Good," she said firmly. "Took you long enough to make it official." She caught his eyes and made her voice a little more serious. "You know there's no one else I'd rather work with."

He relaxed after a second and flared his mandibles briefly outwards. "You may be a little biased."

She felt her the corner of her mouth quirk up into a lopsided smile. "Come on. Anyone show you the perks of the job yet?"

"We get perks?"

"Yeah. Let's go. We've got a few hours before the meeting. We can shoot some targets and you can tell me what you've been doing to get your name plastered all over my inbox."

"Sounds like a plan."

It didn't take them long to get to the Spectre offices. When they arrived, they headed over to Requisitions.

"Shepard," Garrus stated mildly, "you've been holding out on me." He was, she noticed with some amusement, eying up the biggest, heaviest Widow variant in the display.

"You'll punch a hole straight through the wall if you fire that thing in here."

"Really?" he said, with some interest.

She flashed him a grin. "Go see if the VI will let you check it out."

The VI did let him check it out, and they headed over to the range. The door locked behind them, granting them a little extra privacy, and they lined up their targets and each took a shot. The Widow made a sound like a drive core overloading and suddenly Garrus' target was missing most of its head.

"Impressive."

"Don't get too attached to it. Those things cost an arm and a leg."

Garrus eyed her sidelong before responding, deadpan, "I sometimes get the feeling that there are parts of human culture I'm better off not knowing about."

She took another shot. "Ignorance is bliss."

He paused. "That's a good one. Could have used it back when I was C-Sec." Leisurely, he sighted down the range and obliterated another target.

"It's not too late. Plenty of ignorance to go around," she said with a smile that was halfway a grimace.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Can't argue that."

He paused to swap clips, and she took the opportunity. "So what have you been up to? I leave my Gunnery Officer, and when I come back you're some kind of Hierarchy bigshot."

The words were teasing, but she watched him carefully. She'd regretted reading that dossier that Liara had unearthed from the original Shadowbroker's files almost as soon as she'd done it, but she'd never been able to exorcise the doubts it had planted in her. Had she really been holding Garrus back? Was it selfish of her to have kept him on with her?

Garrus glanced away, and his hands stilled for a second on the rifle. "Surprised the hell out of me," he admitted. "I took the evidence to my father, and my father took it to the Primarch." He met her eyes again and flicked his undamaged mandible out in a faint smile. "And then they gave me a task force and told me to get the Hierarchy ready without stepping on any toes."

They shared a quiet scoff between them at that stipulation. "Seems like you're not doing too bad, though," she said. "The Council's listening, at any rate. More than I ever managed," she added, a little bitterly.

He shook his head, frustration creeping into his tone. "They're listening, but I don't think they really get it. We should have started preparing for this three years ago, when we realized Sovereign wasn't a geth ship." He shot her a sharp glance. "Believe me, the Hierarchy knew it wasn't geth. I had to clean up the mess."

"'The mess?'"

"Like the derelict Reaper," he replied tersely.

She inhaled sharply. "You too, huh?" He cast an inquiring glance her way. "Cerberus recovered parts of the Reaper we destroyed on the Collector base. They had it sitting right in the middle of their headquarters. No shields. EDI thought they were trying to hook it into their systems."

They looked at each other for a long moment before Garrus let out a quiet breath. "Damn. I don't like this."

"Neither do I."

"I recommended that the Hierarchy quarantine Sovereign's remains and study it remotely," he admitted. "Not so sure that was the right choice now."

She gave that a second of contemplation before shaking her head. "No use second-guessing it. Time will tell."

He grimaced. "One way or another."

There was a short silence, and then Garrus awkwardly cleared his throat. "What about you? Heard you took down an entire terrorist organization down by yourself while I was busy writing reports."

Shepard took a deep breath. "Cerberus is done. Gone."

"Good," he said decisively.

It struck her all over again that that chapter of her life was over, and she grinned. "Yeah. It is." They took another few shots, and her smile faded. "The Illusive Man got away."

"Hn. Can't say I'm surprised." She eyed him sourly and he shrugged. "Always figured he was the sort to always have a few different exit strategies."

Shepard relented after a moment, and grimaced. "You're right. I just don't like the thought of him running around loose. He doesn't have the resources he used to…"

"…but he's still dangerous."

"Yeah." Her lips tightened. "He thinks we'll only win by learning to control the Reapers."

They paused to take another shot, and Garrus hummed thoughtfully. "It would certainly even the odds."

He said it so neutrally that she turned to look at him, and caught the tense line of his shoulders. "You don't like it either," she said.

"No. I don't," he said after a moment. "But maybe we have to consider it. The galaxy isn't ready for this."

"It just doesn't sit right." An echo of Sovereign's voice rang in her mind. _My kind transcends your understanding._ "You can't hack a Reaper like a cheap security mech."

Garrus' mandibles worked up and down once, thinking. "I hear you. Not our call though." She could hear the uneasy threading of his sub-tones, though, and when she met his eyes, she knew that in the end, if it came down to it, they'd both do what was necessary, orders be damned. That unspoken surety took her breath away for a moment, and she took another couple of shots to cover it up.

When she had to pause to swap clips, she saw him watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"Damn, Garrus. I'm glad you're here," she said, the words jumping out of her without her meaning to speak.

His expression settled, left mandible flicking out into a familiar smile, holding her eyes. "You know me, Shepard. Can't stay out of trouble."

They went through another half dozen thermal clips, telling each other the details of the past few months. He told her about his task force and Venaxa. She told him about Eden Prime and Cerberus. They left the personal stuff alone, aware that the Spectre offices were secure, but not private. In a way, it was almost easier - neither of them was really good at_ talking out their feelings_, but talking strategy was comfortable and held the sense of _welcome home_.

"What do you know about this meeting?" she asked after they'd caught up.

"Not much," he replied, shaking his head. "I was told to be prepared to debrief on Reaper strategy."

"Same for me. I was also told to bring Javik."

"Your Prothean? That ought to turn a few heads."

She snorted. "I'm just hoping he stays in line."

"Think he'll be a problem?"

"He's angry. Doesn't think much of this cycle and isn't shy about expressing his opinions."

"Doesn't have anything left to lose," he suggested.

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Could be us in a few years if he's right about what's coming."

Garrus met her eyes, but did not disagree.

Eventually, the time came to leave for the meeting, and they departed, leaving the cool dimness of the Spectre offices for the brightly lit corridors of the Citadel's administrative level.

Liara and Javik were waiting outside the meeting office. They exchanged greetings with Liara while Javik looked them over, holding himself with the air of a man who has detected an unpleasant odor, but cannot locate the source.

Garrus had seen enough strangeness over the years not to give him more than a cursory up and down, but Shepard could tell by the tilt of his head that he was curious. Javik, predictably, was somewhat less polite.

"I assume you are the one who is to share command of the Normandy." His four eyes blinked rapidly. "A foolish notion. Effective decisions are not reached by consensus."

Garrus shot Shepard a quick look over Liara's head, but did not rise to the bait. "Garrus Vakarian."

"Hmph. Turian. I remember when your people spent all their days chasing down small woodland creatures."

"Nowadays, we just shoot them," Garrus drawled.

Javik stared at him impassively for a moment before turning back to face Shepard. "I will give my advice to this committee of yours, but I do not expect it will accomplish anything. This cycle is soft - your insistence on sharing power among species has weakened you."

With that, he turned and paced to the entrance. Liara cast a quick, apologetic glance Garrus' way before taking her leave.

"Pay him no mind," she said. "He's always like that."

Garrus turned an eye on Shepard, and deliberately raised his brow plate. She gave a minute shrug in return, and they headed inside.

The meeting room was larger than it needed to be, echoing and dimmed, so that the holograms of those not present in person could be seen clearly. A galactic map floated over the center of the room's long oval table. The other committee members were already present. Anderson was seated at the far left of the table, flanked by Hackett's hologram. At the right were two turians, one likewise not attending in person.

The taller turian with the white markings exchanged a nod with Garrus as they entered, and she guessed that this might be General Victus. Hackett turned to face them, and she automatically settled into attention.

"Commander Shepard." A nod to Garrus. "Advisor Vakarian."

"Sir," she responded, and heard Garrus echo her.

He turned to face the assembly at large. "We've all been made aware of the threat at hand. The Reapers are a force unlike any other we've faced, and while both of our governments have taken steps to prepare, until recently, we have not had the latitude to take more decisive action. If we are to survive, we must ready a defensive plan with all possible haste. The object of this meeting is to review what we know of Reaper strategy and to begin to formulate our own."

"Admiral Anderson has been coordinating Alliance technical and logistical preparations for the invasion. I have been placed in command of Alliance fleet actions in this conflict." He nodded to the other side of the table. "General Victus and Advisor Vakarian have been coordinating Hierarchy preparations. Admiral Hadria commands the Hierarchy fleets in this matter. Spectres Shepard and Vakarian are present to advise on what they have observed of Reaper tactics and will have the task of securing cooperation among our allies and assisting in preparations."

The other turian, Hadria, leaned forward, light glinting along her green markings. "And who's the other one?" Her voice was mild, but Shepard thought she sounded like a woman people thought twice about crossing.

Javik met her stare, his expression hovering dangerously close to a sneer. "I am Javik. The only survivor of the last cycle."

"'The last cycle?' You claim to be a Prothean?" inquired Victus.

"I _am_ a Prothean."

"He was recovered from a stasis pod found in the Eden Prime ruins," Shepard interjected.

Hackett nodded. "We will forward you the relevant records. At the moment, suffice to say that he is what he says he is. As the only person to have witnessed a Reaper invasion, his input may prove invaluable."

Hadria inclined her head. "Please do." Her gaze shifted back to Javik. "Well, Prothean? What have you to say?"

"In my time," he began slowly, "the war was nearly over. We had been fighting the Reapers for centuries, and there were only a few of our strongholds remaining. The records we had said that the Reapers appeared through the relays, suddenly, with overwhelming force. We had no warning."

"That accords with what we saw on Ilos," Garrus put in.

Victus nodded gravely. "Noted. I recall your report." His eyes moved back to Javik. "I assume your people resisted."

"We did. The relays which had held our empire together had become a weakness. We were forced to fight simultaneously, on multiple fronts, against an enemy which could appear anywhere, at any time. Nevertheless, we fought them. System by system, planet by planet. For a time, we held them off, but we were never able to turn the tide."

"What can you tell us about their numbers? The composition of their forces?" asked Hadria.

"The capital ships - like the Sovereign your fleet destroyed - were thought to be few in number, perhaps not more than five-hundred."

"Few but formidable," murmured Anderson.

"Indeed. There were others as well, many smaller ships. Destroyers. Troop transports and converters."

"'Converters?'" said Victus.

"When the Reapers landed on a world, the populace was harvested and... repurposed. The Collectors you have seen used to be my people. They were turned against us." Javik blinked, his expression bleak. "When we were able, we bombarded conquered worlds from orbit. They were nothing more than factories to swell the Reapers' forces."

"The husks," Shepard said quietly. "Like we saw with Saren. Saw them with the Collectors too."

"And at Venaxa," Garrus added.

After a moment, Anderson frowned and spoke. "We think that's what they're doing out in the Hegemony. Building up their ground forces before they take us on. It matches what we're hearing from the Hegemony refugees."

Javik raised his head and spoke, more agitated than Shepard had yet heard him. "You are receiving refugees from Reaper-controlled territory? Do not allow them amongst your people! You cannot trust that they are not indoctrinated!"

Hackett inclined his head grimly. "We have had some experience with indoctrination."

"Then you must be aware of the danger," Javik stated, with a sharp chopping motion of his hand. "Many of my people were betrayed by those they counted as friends."

Hackett and Anderson exchanged a glance before the latter responded. "We're already taking the usual precautions associated with harboring foreign nationals. We can up the security, but we're not throwing them out in the cold."

"That is a mistake," said Javik.

"Be that as it may, that is the Alliance policy at this time," replied Hackett.

"Then we are faced with three problems," stated Victus after a moment of heavy silence. "We must first find a way to contain the Reapers' advance. They cannot be allowed to take control of the relay system. Secondly, we must find a counter against their overwhelming force. And thirdly, we must prepare for a fight in which our own forces may be subverted and turned against us."

"Easier said than done," remarked Hadria. "We lack the resources to guard every relay."

Hackett stirred. "We have an advantage the Protheans lacked. Thanks to Commander Shepard's work, the Reapers can no longer access the entire relay network from a single point. They'll have to hop from relay to relay like we do or move at FTL speeds."

Anderson leaned forward, hands folded in front of him. "And we know those routes. We know where they are now - we can predict where they'll be next. There are only so many relays leading out of Hegemony space."

All leaned forward to inspect the galaxy map, and Hadria clicked her mandibles thoughtfully.

"They'll move on Alliance space first, then, but once they've reached the Horsehead Nebula, they've got a clear route into Hierarchy and Union territory. If we can hold them at Exodus, we've got them pinned."

"Indeed," said Hackett. "The question is academic, however, if we lack the military force to hold them back."

They stared at the map, a grim silence hanging over them. Shepard felt a surge of weary irritation, looking at the glow of Exodus, at the heart of Alliance territory. _Relays. It always comes back to the relays. _The Conduit and the Citadel and Omega-4 and Bahak. A thought caught her, and she let out a breath slowly.

"Sir," she said, "is it possible to interfere with the relays themselves?"

Garrus stirred at her side. "You're thinking of Omega-4?"

Anderson folded his hands on the table, regarding her steadily. "According to the analysis your team submitted, the IFF aboard the Normandy functions by engaging a more precise mode of relay operation."

Hackett shook his head. "If the technology could be duplicated, the elimination of relay drift could prove decisive in a trans-relay assault, but it's useless as a defensive measure."

"Nevertheless," said Victus slowly, "the idea has merit."

"The Reapers are arrogant," said Garrus, in a thoughtful tone she recognized from a number of late-night soliloquies on firing algorithms. "They're confident in their control of the relay system and their superiority over us. When they come through, they won't take the time to establish themselves - they won't believe they need to. They'll leave a token force behind in Exodus and send the majority of their fleet straight on through the relay."

Javik nodded sharply. "Yes. The Reapers' tactics were always aggressive; they believed they had little need for caution or defense. Such an advance is likely."

Hadria tapped her finger on the table. "Your point is well taken. If the Exodus relay can be somehow sabotaged, and that initial wave eliminated, we may strike them a crippling blow at the outset."

"It will only work once," warned Javik. "They will counter anything in place once they discover it. But they will not expect the relays turned against them."

Anderson frowned. "It's a place to start. But let's think about what we're discussing for a moment. I hate to bring it up, but if we did manage to sabotage the relay system, the consequences are nothing to sneeze at. The Council won't want that kind of technology on the loose."

"Human," growled Javik, "your Council will be the least of your concerns when the Reapers invade. You are being afforded a chance my people did not have. Do not waste it!"

"We're getting dozens of ships of Hegemony refugees each day now," put in Hackett grimly. "At this point, it's safe to say that the Alliance is willing to risk the Council's displeasure in order to defend itself. The Exodus relay is within Alliance sovereign space. We are entitled to carry out operations in that area, and we will."

Shepard frowned. "Even so, the point is moot if we lack the technology."

There was a brief silence, and then Victus cleared his throat. "There have been Hierarchy R&D efforts focusing on the relays in the past, but they've typically been shut down early due to political concerns."

Hackett nodded slowly. "The Alliance has engaged in similar programs. To my knowledge, none of what we discovered would be useful in this scenario."

"The Migrant Fleet," said Hadria suddenly. "They've been evading tolls for years, and it's damned near impossible to detect when they go through a relay, despite being the biggest fleet in the galaxy. They know something about interfacing with the relay system."

Hackett raised an eyebrow. "Our interactions with the Fleet have been limited."

"The Hierarchy maintains a number of mutual aid agreements with the Fleet, due to our common reliance on dextro-amino supplies," responded Victus thoughtfully. "In the past, we've overlooked their use of the relays out of deference to those agreements, but we've suspected for a long time that they have some kind of backdoor into the system."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Sir. We may need their assistance anyways. To date, they're the only species to have fought a war against a synthetic enemy."

"A good point," said Victus. His eyes found hers across the table. "You and Vakarian have a contact in the Fleet, correct?"

"Yes sir. Tali'Zorah vas Normandy served with us."

"'Vas Normandy?'" said Hadria. "She took the _Normandy_ as a ship-name?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Why was she not stationed on a Fleet ship? Is she in good standing with her people?"

Shepard felt her lips thin. "Her father was Admiral Rael'Zorah. There was some political unpleasantness after his death, but Tali _chose_ to serve on the _Normandy_."

Garrus spoke up. "Last I heard from her, she was serving in an advisory capacity to the Admiralty board."

Hadria leaned back in her seat, apparently satisfied. "Then she is in good standing with the Fleet and may be trusted to bring the matter to the Admiralty Board's attention if contacted."

"Tali is trustworthy," Shepard said. "Let her examine the Normandy's IFF. If the Fleet already has an in to the relay system, maybe it will tell them something it's not telling us."

Across the table, Hackett nodded slowly. "It's worth investigating."

Victus and Hadria exchanged a glance, and the then the former also nodded. "Agreed. We will make our recommendation to the Council."

* * *

Afterwards, they headed back to the _Normandy_. They swung by the main battery first. Garrus' belongings had already been delivered, and someone had taken the initiative to set up a turian-made cot by the wall. Garrus made a pleased hum and performed a cursory check on his gear, making sure all was present and stowed out of the way. Shepard rested against the door and watched him. Once all was secure, he headed back, leaning briefly over the controls console out of habit. He cursed quietly at whatever he saw there, and EDI's voice interrupted.

"Welcome back, Officer Vakarian. Alliance technicians have installed fleet-standard firing algorithms. However, I took the liberty of backing up your last recorded settings and will restore them pending your approval."

Shepard guffawed. "Even the ship's glad to have you back."

"Officer Vakarian's algorithms provide superior performance," EDI rejoined serenely.

"Go ahead and restore my settings, EDI." He drew himself up with an air of affronted dignity, but his eyes were half-lidded in amusement. "_Someone_ appreciated my calibrations."

A number of responses, most of them not appropriate for a semi-public space, flashed through her mind. In the end, she settled for a crooked grin. "Your calibrations can wait, Vakarian. Think we've got some things to discuss."

He stepped to her side. "Your cabin?"

"Let's go."

Once the doors of her cabin closed behind them, her hand found his, and they fell into a loose embrace, leisurely this time, hands clasped and leaning into each other. They rested there for a minute or so, before Garrus let out a breath and pulled back. She took a long look at him, refamiliarizing herself with the lines of his face, and saw him doing the same.

"You're healing up," she said, carefully running a thumb down the lower edge of his damaged mandible.

He swallowed, eyes on hers. "Figured I'd take the bandages off for you. Since you like scars so much."

There was a lot in there he wasn't saying aloud. But she could play that game too.

"Good choice," she murmured, and pulled him down for a kiss.

"So does this mean," he said, when they came up for breath, "that I'm going to have to watch you around krogan?"

She laughed and gave him a shove. "Ass."

He grinned back at her and they made their way to the couch and sat, side-by-side.

"So," she said quietly, "a joint command?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes on hers and voice serious. "You okay with that?"

"You know I trust your judgment. And there's no one I'd rather have at my back." She hesitated, thinking. In some ways, a joint command seemed fundamentally right, a natural development of the working relationship they already had. But the Alliance had fraternization regs for a reason. And the idea of two people at the top of the totem pole ran counter to everything she'd ever learned about chain of command. "But what Javik said earlier wasn't wrong either. The Alliance doesn't usually permit a shared command."

He nodded. "It's not typical for the Hierarchy either. It's not completely unheard of, though. Usually happens when a mission needs a very particular combination of skillsets."

She nodded absently, mentally sorting out how to distribute the tasks of command between them. She opened her mouth to begin outlining the plan of action, and abruptly realized what she was about to do. She closed her mouth, blinked a few times, and sent Garrus, who was watching curiously, a wry smile. "So," she said instead, "how do you want to do this?"

Garrus, she thought, wasn't fooled, but he didn't call her on it.

"Only one captain on a ship," he said after a moment. "But I was thinking. There have been times when we could have used two teams on the ground."

She nodded slowly. "If we both have Spectre authority, there's no reason not to." She caught his eyes. "And I may be the captain of the ship, but we make mission-critical decisions together."

"Fair enough," he said after a moment, and she realized, with mixed relief and trepidation, that settling into this was going to be equally difficult for both of them.

"We'll figure it out," she said. And they would, she decided fiercely, regulations be damned. They'd met their share of challenges. They could tackle another.

He hummed in agreement. "Can't argue with our track record there."

"Hey," she said after a moment. "You know I meant it earlier, about being glad you're here." She let her hand find his again and then hesitated. Sometimes, it still felt strange to say these things aloud. "I missed you."

His hand tightened briefly around hers. "Missed you too."

There was a comfortable silence, and then she grinned slyly. "You know, no one's expecting us anywhere for a while."

His eyes met hers and he matched her grin with one of his own. His hand wandered upwards to her wrist, thumb stroking lazily across her pulse. "Is that so."

"I think," she said, swinging herself up and around to straddle his legs, "we'd better take advantage."

"I think you're right," he said, very seriously, leaning in to brush his forehead against hers.

And then, for a while, they said nothing more.

.

.

.

.

AN: Thanks to Cadmos and servantofclio for looking this over!


	12. Chapter 12

Shepard cursed and set down the datapad with a decisive click. "No, you're right, that _is_ what it looks like. But what the hell are they doing out there?"

Garrus set his own datapad next to hers and stretched, trying to work a stubborn crick out of his neck. "Come on, Shepard. We both know the answer to that. When we were there, half the Admirals were spoiling for a fight."

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Could they have picked a worse time?"

He thought about that for a second and drew breath to answer, but Shepard shot him a glare.

"Don't you dare."

He raised his hands placatingly and she slumped back into the couch. The table was littered with datapads, lit by the soft glow of his open omni-tool display. They'd traced the Migrant Fleet's movements from the Maroon Sea up through the Attican Traverse and out to the Far Rim. What they'd found was disquieting. The Fleet had taken on supplies in enormous quantities, scattering their acquisition throughout several systems, making it less obvious just how much they'd taken on in fuel and provisions. There was a rumor running through the extranet (and backed up by numerous police and immigration reports) that Pilgrims were returning to the Fleet en masse. And, most worryingly, the Fleet had engaged with a Blue Suns outpost and come away with the right materials in the right quantities to manufacture dreadnaught-class armaments for several ships.

Any doubts they had about the Fleet's ability to use the relays to their advantage had died a quick death. Whatever the Fleet was up to, they'd wanted it kept quiet, and they'd been remarkably successful, given their numbers. The reports they had were mostly eyewitness accounts – people who'd caught sight of the Fleet by chance or whom the Fleet had dealt with directly. Official reports of the Fleet's movements were unnaturally sparse. They seemed to melt through checkpoints, and even a thorough investigation was insufficient to pinpoint their location beyond a general sector.

The whole thing stunk, and he couldn't help but suspect that the timing was not coincidental.

"The Fleet doesn't care much for outside politics," he offered, with more optimism than he actually felt. "They don't take kindly to Council meddling, and the Council is usually happy to leave them alone so long as they don't piss off anyone important. They may not know or care what's going on out here."

Shepard sat up straight again with a groan. "I'll buy that they don't care, but they have to know what's happening. Tali had that information. She wouldn't have just sat on it."

"She did," he said, tapping a finger thoughtfully on the edge of a datapad. "Last I heard, she was going to submit it to the Admiralty Board. We saw how they didn't hesitate to use her in that trial," he added grimly. "There might be some kind of political powerplay going on behind the scenes."

"I wouldn't put it past them," she muttered. "That message from Tali worries me."

"You and me both."

Tali's messages were usually chatty. Personable. Sure, when there was business at hand, she focused on that. But he'd still expected a more personal response to their message than a terse, formal acknowledgment of Spectre rights to inquiry and a set of coordinates. It was so unlike Tali, in fact, that he'd double-checked the encryption just to be sure there wasn't anything extra hiding in the code.

Shepard frowned. "She didn't say anything to you earlier about what was going on?"

"Hadn't heard from her for a while before we messaged her, but she didn't mention anything out of the ordinary before." A heavy silence held them for a moment, and then he shook his head. "Something's wrong. Nothing we can do about it until we get there, though."

"I know," said Shepard quietly. "Just feels like I've been doing too much waiting lately."

After a moment, she shifted and turned partway to face him.

"How are you doing? Crew giving you any trouble?"

He had a brief echo back to the last time she'd asked him that, when she'd just come back from the dead and he'd still been digging himself out from under the ruins of Omega, both of them ill at ease on a Cerberus ship.

"None so far. They're disciplined. Combat will be the test."

Shepard frowned. "You're not just saying that, right? If anybody starts giving you shit, I want to know _before_ it bites us in the ass in a combat situation."

"You know I wouldn't let it come to that," he said reproachfully.

After a second, she sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "Yeah. I know. Old habits." She met his eyes and grabbed for his hand. "I _do_ trust you."

Garrus squeezed her hand back and shrugged, deliberately casual. "Hey. I get it. I'd be asking the same questions."

Wordlessly, she tightened her grip again before withdrawing. "Shift change in five," she noted after a moment. "Better get some work done before the conference."

"Duty calls," he agreed, and they set about cleaning up the mess.

He headed down to the main battery afterwards. They'd decided, after some discussion, that he should remain there for the time being. They could have moved Liara out of the XO's office, or partitioned off part of the cargo bay for him. They'd even half-seriously talked about him moving into Shepard's quarters, but that was more teasing and wishful thinking than anything else. The crew was used to Alliance chain of command and protocol, and they weren't about to make trouble for themselves by openly flaunting their more-than-professional relationship. Sticking with the main battery had been the easiest. It was private and spacious enough to allow him take care of his business with the Hierarchy. It gave him a firm role aboard the ship, which gave the crew some idea of how to approach him.

And to be honest, after all this time, he couldn't really say he minded the endless recalibrations the Thanix required.

He spent some time going through his team's latest reports in preparation for the conference later. With the Hierarchy's current association with the Alliance, their focus had shifted to preparing the Exodus system as best they could to bear the brunt of the invasion. Hierarchy defenses had largely already been set in motion and could be handled by the responsible military branches without oversight, but interfacing with Alliance personnel and operations was proving difficult.

It looked easy in writing. Exodus had extensive existing infrastructure and resources to work with, and the Alliance had plenty of expertise in using them to their fullest capabilities. The Hierarchy had a long-standing reputation for fast and flexible deployment and emplacement. In practice, while things in the upper echelons of the operation went smoothly, they bogged down at the squad and team level. Hierarchy forces were unused to dealing with civilian agencies whose employees might never have experienced military service, and were vocally frustrated at the resulting miscommunications and delays. Alliance troops tended to ignore or dismiss Hierarchy junior officers, who might be only barely over the Alliance age of enlistment. Lingering tensions from the Relay-314 Incident made for uneasy dealing with the locals, exacerbated by the common human perception of turian high-handedness and the common turian perception of lax human discipline. Even with those obstacles, they were making good progress, but the delays added up.

Once finished with the reports, he sunk himself into the cannon's settings for a while, letting the details of the alignment actuators' power cycling drown everything else out. Eventually, he set his code to compile and straightened up, feeling his vertebrae crack. He checked his messages, found nothing that couldn't wait for a response, and headed out on his way down to the shuttle bay to talk to Cortez about scrounging up a set of hydraulics that wouldn't give him heart palpitations every time they extended the main gun.

It wasn't strictly necessary - he knew damned well that what they had would work, even if he had to baby it a little - but it took him out of the battery and gave him an excuse to interact with the crew. He'd watched Shepard do the same on the SR-1, and he'd applied the lesson to his team on Omega and his task force.

He wasn't sure how well it was working here. The crew were polite. Disciplined, as he'd told Shepard. And he'd take serving on an Alliance ship over serving with Cerberus any day. But they weren't sure of him. Hell, given what the _Normandy_ been doing six months ago, some of them still might not be sure of _Shepard_. And he'd be willing to bet that even the most stolid of them were uneasy at the shakeup in the chain of command.

He got down to the cargo bay, and found Cortez absent from his usual spot and the area more or less deserted. After a moment, he shrugged and headed back to the elevator, but then a burst of raucous laughter and swearing erupted from behind a stack of crates at the far wall.

He headed over and found Cortez, the kid, Vega, and, surprisingly, Ashley Williams seated on some of the smaller cargo crates playing cards. There was a hand laid out in front of Ashley, and Vega was doing the cursing.

He paused for a moment, taking stock. Shepard had reintroduced him to Ashley when he'd boarded and had filled him in on the role she'd played in watching Shepard for the Alliance. He hadn't spoken to her since, and frankly wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. He'd been angry when they'd crossed paths on Horizon, but Omega had only been a few weeks past at the time, and he'd been pretty quick to anger back then. Looking back on it, Ashley's objections seemed more sensible, and with the clarification of his relationship with Shepard, his own reactions took on a different tone. It sent a chill of unease through him, that his regard for Shepard might so deeply affect his actions without his being aware of it, and roused all his unsettled questions about his suitability for this command all over again.

He still couldn't say he was entirely comfortable with her aboard. She hadn't trusted Shepard before – still didn't completely trust Shepard, if what he was reading between the lines of Shepard's introduction was right – and they would need everyone working together in this war. But for now, he put it aside and focused on the matter at hand. She was part of the crew, and it was part of both their jobs to work together.

Garrus cleared his throat and they all jumped and turned to face him. Ashley, he noted, stiffened up a little as she spotted him. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Just a friendly off-duty game. Anything we can do for you, sir?" said Cortez.

"If you're off-duty, I won't trouble you. Just shoot me a message when you get the chance. Was looking at some hydraulics upgrades for the main gun and wanted to run through our sourcing options."

Cortez gave him a polite nod. "Yes sir. Shouldn't be a problem."

He grinned and jerked his head over towards Ashley's end of the table, a deliberate peace offering. "Williams cleaned you out yet?"

"Not yet. But she's getting there," groaned Vega. "Uh. Sir," he added, straightening up from his slump.

Ashley shot him a look he couldn't quite decipher, but relaxed after a moment and took the bait. "You're one to talk. I remember you taking a bunch of ensigns for all they were worth at Skyllian Five back on the SR-1."

Garrus shrugged and gave her his best shit-eating grin in response. "Not my fault they couldn't read my tells."

"You two served together with the Commander on the SR-1?" said Vega. "What was that like?"

He caught Ashley's eye over Cortez' head. "Frustrating," he said dryly.

Ashley snorted. "That about sums it up. Couldn't get anyone to listen to what we were saying. The Council was full of political BS, and the Alliance kept calling us to take out their trash."

That blunt informality seemed to break the subtle, polite tension of the other members of the group, and both leaned back a little in their seats.

"What about the Commander?" said Vega. "Was she always so, you know…." He gestured expansively in the air. "No disrespect intended, of course," he added hastily.

Garrus smirked. "Shepard's always been Shepard." He glanced Ashley's way again. "I'm sure Williams can tell you some stories."

She frowned and raised an eyebrow. "I think you have more stories than me. You're the one who had to keep the Mako running."

That brought a bark of laughter from Vega. "What'd I tell you, Esteban, about the Mako?"

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Vega. I'm sure Spectre Vakarian will agree with me when I say the Mako could take a beating, but she was a beast to maintain."

"Replaced the suspension more times than I could count," replied Garrus.

Cortez grinned up at him. "I see you're a sensible man. I'll take a look at what we can get in for hydraulics as soon as I get the chance."

"Thanks. Appreciate it. I'll leave you to your game." He turned to go, but Ashley's voice halted him before he'd taken a step.

"Wait. Garrus." He turned again and found her looking at him, her expression still and serious. "Have you got a minute?"

He tilted his head curiously, looking down at her. It was a good sign, he thought, that she wanted to talk, but a bad one that she wanted to talk to him, and not Shepard. "Sure. We can talk upstairs."

She nodded to Vega and Cortez, and they made their way up to the crew deck in awkward silence.

After the battery door closed behind them, he leaned back against the control console as Ashley took the seat at his workbench. She was noticeably tense, and he was unsure enough of where she stood at the moment that he let her stew in it a few seconds before speaking.

"What can I do for you, Ash?"

She was quiet for a moment, her mouth a straight, thin line. "What you said earlier," she said abruptly. "About Shepard always being Shepard." She hesitated, but the unspoken question was clear enough.

Garrus took a long look at her before answering. "If you're asking whether she really _is_ Shepard, then she is." He gestured to himself and gave her a wide, humorless smile, pointedly showing off his teeth and mandibles. "I wouldn't have joined a Cerberus crew for anyone else."

Ashley shook her head sharply. "No. I get that she's the real thing, as unbelievable as that is. The medical reports were clear enough."

"Then you're asking whether she's changed since the SR-1."

She frowned. "I know she has. The Shepard I knew was Alliance through-and-through. She wouldn't have let an illegal AI have the run of the ship, and she wouldn't have been on friendly terms with a former Cerberus operative."

"EDI's saved all our lives a few times over now, and Lawson's done the same, no matter her personal views. You may not find them comfortable, but they are trustworthy. And they both owe Shepard."

"So I've been told. And I don't like it, but I can understand it." She met his eyes again. "But it's not just that. It's little things, too. Before, I would have told you that Shepard would never break regulations unless it was life or death. I still haven't seen her break any regs. But I'm not so sure that she wouldn't now." Her voice hardened. "So I guess I'm asking you whether she's changed in the ways that matter."

He gave that due consideration. Shepard _had_ changed aboard the SR-2. She'd been angry, and had felt frustrated and trapped by Cerberus' hold over her. It had been a long, long while before she'd trusted most of the crew on that ship, and in the meantime, it had been him and her, watching each other's backs and keeping an eye on the rest of the team. She'd become less patient. Less forgiving. Quicker to take action. And there had been no regs to break.

But he still remembered the sight of her head in his scope, between him and Sidonis.

"No," he said soberly. "In the ways that matter, she's the same as she ever was. You can trust her decisions."

Watching Ashley, her whole body a rigid line, he wondered if that would be enough. When he'd known her on the SR-1, she'd put the mission ahead of everything else, like they all had. But she'd also had a deep regard for the institutions of military life themselves, and he suspected that, for Ashley Williams, the right thing and the proper thing were frequently the same thing.

She watched him, measuring, before replying. "Glad to hear it," she said slowly. "You've changed too," she added after a moment.

"So have you," he returned, cocking his head to look down at her.

The corner of her mouth twitched up. "Fair enough," she said. Her expression stilled. "How'd you know? What made you that sure of her that you'd sign up with Cerberus?"

The question momentarily blindsided him. Following Shepard had been the natural, obvious choice, and he hadn't thought twice about it, though Shepard had made it clear at the time that it _was_ a choice. It took him some few seconds to find words to explain the certainty of that decision.

"When she found me," he said slowly, "I was in a bad situation." Deliberately, he tapped a finger at the tip of his mandible, where he knew the scarring was bad. "Wouldn't have made it if she hadn't gotten me out of there. Afterwards, she asked if I'd stay and watch her six. Give her someone on the crew she could trust. Of course I said yes."

Ashley was watching him, her expression strange. "You felt like you owed her."

He blinked, felt his mandibles shift in consternation. "No, nothing like that. In the same day, I almost died and one of the best friends I've ever had came back from the dead." He shook his head. "I wasn't going to waste a second chance like that."

Her expression softened. "Yeah. I guess I can see that." After a moment, she relaxed and sighed. "It's strange to be on the Normandy again. I keep expecting things to be like they were, but they're not. Things were a lot simpler back then."

"Seems that way now." He shrugged. "I doubt any of us would have said so at the time." He fixed an eye on her and sighed. "Look, Ash. You're right: things have changed. You can adapt to it, or you can stick to reminiscing about the old days. Your choice. If you're not comfortable here, no one's going to hold it against you if you request a transfer. But if you want my advice, this is still a good ship and Shepard's still a good C.O. And, unless I miss my guess, you're still a good officer. We could always use another of those."

She watched him for a moment before letting out a short laugh. "Huh. You really have changed, Vakarian. My grandfather must be spinning in his grave." Before he could ask her about that, she went on. "You know, I saw the vids you and Shepard took. Saw what happened to all those colonists." Her lips compressed into a thin line and she met his eyes. "I kept thinking I made the wrong choice back on Horizon. I'm not going to make that mistake again."

Garrus nodded sharply. "Good." He eyed her a moment. "You should tell that to Shepard. Horizon bothered her for a long time."

Ashley hesitated, and then returned the nod. "Maybe I will."

* * *

It was strange to be standing next to Shepard instead of behind her at a meeting. They'd submitted their report on the Fleet's current location and likely occupation. It had gone over about as well as expected.

"You believe they're attempting to go over the Council's head and engage the geth," said Victus.

"Yes, sir," replied Shepard. "The situation was tense the last time we had contact with the Fleet, and all the evidence points to them gearing up for a major conflict."

"Given their current location, it's easy enough to guess what they're after," put in Garrus.

Victus and Hackett exchanged a troubled glance. "Rannoch," said the latter. "They're going to try to retake it." He shook his head. "Given the timing and the pains they've gone to to cover their tracks, they may even be counting on the Reapers as a distraction so they can pull this off without causing a diplomatic incident."

"We have some time," Garrus said. "If they'd started anything, there would be no hiding a conflict of that scale. Someone would have heard about it by now."

Victus nodded once, sharply. "It's something." He eyed each of them in turn. "In light of this information, your mission parameters have changed. You're to do everything in your power to prevent this from coming to a head."

"We need the Migrant Fleet intact, and another front is the last thing we want in this war," added Hackett.

"Sir," said Shepard after a moment, "What about the geth? Our last contact with them suggested that they may be willing to stand against the Reapers."

Victus and Hackett exchanged a tense glance across the stage before Hackett answered the question.

"The Fleet is your priority. The geth are an unknown, untrusted quantity. If you believe you have an opportunity to establish friendly relations with them, you may pursue it _cautiously,_ if and only if you can do it without jeopardizing relations with the Fleet."

"Understood."

"Work fast," said Victus. "Don't waste time on the geth if they won't cooperate."

Hackett frowned. "We're receiving Hegemony refugees in the hundreds now. They're being decimated." He inclined his head to look down at Shepard. "We've taken your Prothean's warnings under advisement and tightened security on new arrivals."

"Any further developments in Exodus?" asked Garrus.

Victus turned to face him. "Preparations are proceeding apace. You're already familiar with some of the difficulties we've encountered, but nothing's come up that isn't a routine problem with joint ops. Your team," he nodded to Garrus, "has done an exemplary job of coordinating with Alliance personnel. Construction is nearly complete on the artillery array, and early detection protocol upgrades are well underway."

"We're also proceeding with evacuations in that sector," added Hackett, "but no matter what we do, this is going to be a bloodbath, if what we're hearing from the batarians is true. Those are the oldest, most populous colonies in Alliance space. We simply don't have the time or resources to get everyone out. We're hoping to minimize casualties by relocating civilians away from urban centers, but it's not going as quickly as we'd hoped."

"Sir," asked Shepard quietly, "has there been any further movement from Cerberus?"

"A few isolated agents have attempted to make trouble, but with the information we acquired from the raid on Cronos, we've been able to stay one step ahead of them. The Illusive Man is still at large, but we've got people looking for him. He can't run forever." He gave a brief pause before continuing. "We're proceeding with our investigations into Cerberus research programs as well."

Garrus watched Shepard straighten up sharply at that. Hackett clearly noted it as well, and fixed a cutting look on her.

"I'm aware of your objections. But we can't fight this war blind. Cerberus did make significant progress in deciphering some areas of Reaper technology and they did it with remarkable speed."

He and Shepard exchanged a glance. She'd told him about what they'd found in Cerberus' labs in detail. The strategist in him understood the importance of the information, but he personally couldn't say it didn't make him uneasy to hear that the Alliance was pursuing it.

Before either of them could voice their doubts, Victus cut in.

"Our progress will be slower. Cerberus' testing methods were dangerous at best and inhumane at worst, but they've given us information we can build on." He nodded to Garrus. "We're following a modified version of the protocol you recommended at Venaxa. No personnel will be in direct contact with Reaper technology."

Shepard shot a querying look at him and he gave her a minute nod. It was as safe as he could imagine Reaper tech being. "Understood."

"If you have no further questions," said Hackett, "we'll leave you to it."

"No, sir."

Victus paused before cutting his channel. "Vakarian. Your father sends his regards."

He blinked, startled. It was a small gesture, but not something he'd have expected of his father. "Tell him thanks," he said after a moment. "And to say hi to Mom and Sol for me."

"I will. Good luck."

The connection cut and he and Shepard were left alone in the comm room.

"Your Dad?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head quickly to clear it before replying. "Yeah." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "It's funny. When I was a kid, we had a few real bad fights right before I was scheduled for my second tour. He told me not to bother calling home if I couldn't tell him anything he'd be proud of." He shrugged. "So I didn't. And he didn't call me. We got back on speaking terms eventually, but the habit stuck."

"You ought to give him a call."

"Yeah," he said, and paused for a moment before adding bitterly, "Reapers have a way of putting things into perspective."

"They do," she said softly. "I've been messaging my Mom. We're on good terms, but we've never been real touchy-feely." She grimaced. "Now, though…"

"You know what you stand to lose."

She looked directly at him. "Yeah. I do." She glanced away, scowling at the empty holo stage. "I don't know, Garrus," she said quietly. "I get the feeling that this war is going to be worse than anything we could imagine."

The comm room wasn't exactly private, but it wasn't exactly public either, so he stepped close to her side so their shoulders bumped together. "Not like we haven't done that song and dance before, Shepard. We'll make it."

Briefly, she leaned into him, letting him take her weight for a second.

"I hope so."

.

.

.

.

_AN: Thanks to Cadmos and servantofclio for beta-reading!_


	13. Chapter 13

Even having seen the Migrant Fleet before, the sea of ships was a shock. They were clustered together at the very outer edges of the Tikkun system, slim frigates and fighters holding a perimeter, cruisers lurking behind. Further back still were the civilian ships that made up the bulk of the Fleet, huddled behind the protective line of the warships. But even those bristled with guns. Far away, towards the center of the system, the Normandy's scanners could pick out the thermal signatures of another fleet, ships cooler and dimmer than the quarian Fleet, but broadly similar in profile. Side by side, the similarities between geth and quarian designs were obvious.

"Take a look at that," murmured Garrus, nodding towards the central knot of civilian ships. "They went through with it."

Shepard looked, and cursed. He was right. Two of the liveships at the center of the group bore cannons with barrels easily twice the length of the _Normandy_.

"Hell of a welcoming committee," she muttered.

"You bring us to the nicest places, Commander," sing-songed Joker under his breath.

"Let them know we're coming," she said. "Let's see just how welcoming they are."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." He opened the channel. Before he could speak, a female voice with the characteristic modulation of an environmental suit transducer came in.

"Incoming vessel, identify yourself."

"This is Alliance frigate _Normandy SR-2_. We have two Council Spectres aboard on business with the Admiralty Board."

"Acknowledged. Maintain position. Do not approach without further instruction."

Joker leaned back. "Friendly bunch."

"It is a reasonable precaution," said EDI, from the copilot's chair.

"What are we gonna do? Fight all of them at once?"

The channel clicked open again. "_Normandy_, you are expected. Proceed to liveship _Raleel_, coordinates 242.065, 338.099, 157.458, Dock 87. A quarantine and decontamination team will meet you on disembarkation."

"Well," said Garrus, sarcastically casual, "Let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

Decontamination was efficient and thorough. It was a little strange to walk around the ship fully suited up. She felt ill at ease and strangely disconnected. She supposed Garrus was more used to it, given the turian military custom of wearing armor at all times while on duty, but even he left his helmet off. There had been no need to bring a large team with them for what amounted to a diplomatic mission, and the fewer people they had, the faster it was to get through decontamination, so it was just her and him.

It gave her a disquieting sense of déjà vu; the last time they'd gone through this, Tali had been with them, a small, silent figure wound taut with nerves. Shepard was keenly aware of the empty spot at her left.

A quarian man, built tall and rangy and flanked by a pair of guards, met them at the exit of the clean room.

"Captain Shepard, Spectre Vakarian. Welcome. I am Alin'Taal vas Raleel, the captain of this ship. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Admiralty Board."

She glanced over towards Garrus, but his face was unreadable behind the faceplate of his helmet. "Lead the way."

As they walked through the ship's tight corridors, she clicked on her comm to the closed channel between herself and Garrus. "I don't like this."

"Me neither," he muttered. "Where's Tali? It's not like her to miss out on the welcoming committee."

She frowned uneasily. "Yeah."

At length, they reached a small room, much different from the atrium where they'd first met the Admiralty Board. Despite the ample lighting and careful layout, it felt cramped and dark from the presence of so many people. The Admiralty Board themselves were seated on a dais behind a long table. She and Garrus were clearly expected to stand below and make their case, and she felt a momentary flash of irritation at the arrangement. In addition to the Admiralty Board members, a small number of other people flanked the walls, Tali among them, she saw to her vast relief.

Before she could speak, Shala'Raan stood from the Admirals' table. "Spectres. It's rare that we get repeat visitors to the Fleet. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

They'd planned this out. Shepard had made an impression at Tali's trial, and the Admirals would remember her. They would expect her to be aggressive and straightforward, and that's what she would do. While she focused on making the argument, Garrus would watch the room for reactions.

"Admiral Raan. We sent information to you several months ago through Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. The galaxy is currently facing a serious threat."

Gerrel snorted. "You mean that Reaper business that's got the Council all twisted in on itself? Load of nonsense."

Tali stepped forward from the sidelines, and the other quarians in the room turned to look at her. "It's hardly nonsense," she bit off sharply. "The Admiralty Board saw the evidence. You know it's true."

"Evidence which mysteriously vanished after only one viewing," remarked Xen lazily.

Tali's hands curled into fists at her sides, but her voice remained even. "I gave you the files from my backup."

"You're very bold for a woman recently accused of treason. One wonders how those files would compare to the originals."

Tali stiffened, and a murmur ran through the room.

Shepard felt a flare of irritation and moved to step forward, but before she could, Garrus' voice came in over the comm.

"Wait."

He didn't say anything more, and she wished she could see his face to get a read on what he was thinking, but she kept her peace for the moment.

Tali drew herself up to her full height. "I am not a traitor. The Board has asked for my expertise with synthetics and I will deliver it. The Reapers are a genuine threat."

"Enough, Xen," said Raan sharply. "Tali'Zorah was acquitted of all charges. The loss of the original files was unfortunate, but clearly accidental."

Now Shepard did step forward. "We have the same files Tali was carrying. I can forward them to you right now if you want to compare them, but you won't find anything different. The Reapers are coming, and the rest of the galaxy is preparing to meet them."

Gerrel leaned back, crossing his arms. "Even if they are coming, it's no concern of ours. The Council can deal with their own business. We have more pressing concerns of our own."

"We did wonder about that," interjected Garrus, so smoothly and evenly that it might almost be mistaken for a friendly comment.

Gerrel leaned forward again, and beneath the tint of his faceplate, she could see his eyes narrow. "Our people have waited centuries for this. We are on the brink of coming home."

Koris spoke for the first time. "It's not decided yet, Gerrel. Not everyone is so eager to fight your senseless war." He shifted to look directly at Shepard. "But neither are we eager to fight a senseless war for the Council."

"And we're not asking you to," she retorted. "We need the Fleet's technical expertise."

"Our expertise?" remarked Xen. "The Council has encountered a technical problem so insurmountable that they're willing to beg at the Migrant Fleet's doors? That _is_ a change."

"And I suppose we're expected to fix their problems out of the goodness of our hearts?" scoffed Gerrel. "The Council hasn't done us any favors lately."

"I cleared the _Alarei_ of geth for you," returned Shepard.

Koris waved a hand dismissively. "That action had nothing to do with the Council and everything to do with your association with Tali'Zorah. The Council would have deemed it a matter for the Fleet to handle and would have imposed further sanctions if we'd failed to contain the threat."

"Indeed," said Raan. "The Council must be truly desperate if they are willing to turn to us for aid. What, precisely, do they require?"

Shepard swept a glance across the room, taking in the small crowd of strangers hanging on their every word. "With all due respect, Admirals, this isn't something that should be discussed publicly."

There was a tense moment as the Admirals conferred, and then Raan nodded.

"Very well. Tali'Zorah stay behind. All others are dismissed."

Shepard wondered at that exception, but wasn't about to question it. The room emptied in a murmur of voices, and soon they were alone but for the Board and Tali.

"Well?" said Koris. "What does the Council require that can't be said in public?"

Shepard looked at each of them in turn, trying to find their eyes behind their helmets. "We're aware that the Fleet has some understanding of how the mass relays operate." She thought Raan and Koris might have tensed at that, but quarians were always difficult to read. Xen and Gerrel were still and apparently unconcerned. Tali stood straight, but she knew her well enough to catch the lift of her shoulders. She took a breath and pressed on. "We want to know how to sabotage one."

There was an instant of such quiet that she could clearly hear the throb of the ship's engines and the whine of the room's ventilation fans, and then the room exploded into noise, as all the Admirals tried to speak at once.

"Sabotage a relay?"

"...incredibly dangerous proposition."

"...allow the Council unprecedented control of the relay network..."

...dangerous and irresponsible avenue of research."

After a moment, the cacophony died down. Raan spoke first.

"The relays are too vital to galactic civilization to weaponize. Even if it could be done, we'd be fools to give the Council powers that kind of technology."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she responded grimly. "I know the Fleet is insular, but you haven't survived this long by hiding under a rock. You saw the files Tali brought back. You know what's coming. I don't doubt you know what's going on in the Hegemony right now. The Reapers are coming, and they won't stop with the Council. They'll come for you too, no matter where you go."

Gerrel snorted. "So we should give up our chance to reclaim our homeworld for some nebulous threat a half a galaxy away?"

She took a step forward, putting her right up in front of the Admirals' table. She had to look up at them a little, but Shepard was a tall woman, and it wasn't by much. Deliberately, she turned to face Gerrel. "Maybe you'll take back Rannoch. Maybe you'll even have time to settle on it before they come. But all it's going to mean is that you'll have a home for them to burn. We can hit them hard at the first relay they cross, and maybe they won't ever get that far. Or you can wait and hope that it takes them a long time to tear through the rest of us."

The Admirals visibly stiffened, and she felt a brief, vicious shock of satisfaction. She could see Gerrel working up the bluster for a retort, but before he could let it fly, Garrus spoke up.

"The Council powers depend on the relays as much as the Fleet does. We don't want the relay damaged or destroyed. We just want it temporarily incapacitated. Rerouted, maybe. If you develop the technology, you can build in your own back doors, if you're that worried about it being used for the wrong ends."

There was a sullen silence before Xen spoke up. "Even if such a project were politically advisable, the technical obstacles are nontrivial."

Tali hesitated and glanced over to the Admirals' table. "May I explain?"

"Please do," said Raan.

"When a ship hails a relay, normally, it must transmit its exact heading, its exact mass, and the command to jump. Fleet ships insert a small string of code before the jump command. The jump proceeds as normal, but the characteristic burst of radiation the relay emits is slightly redshifted outside the normal bandwidth of relay operations. Most sensors are not looking for relay transmissions in that spectrum, so we are able to jump without being detected." She shook her head. "It was an accidental discovery. It's given us some insight into the relay command structure and operation, but we don't truly understand how it works."

"What if you had an example to work from?" She redirected her attention to the Admirals. "You know that the _Normandy_ is equipped with an IFF device which allowed it to successfully navigate the Omega-4 relay. If we allowed your engineers access to it, could you provide a solution?"

"It is… possible," said Xen, slowly. "A working relay interface device would answer many questions."

"We shouldn't be wasting time on this," interjected Gerrel. "The very idea is dangerous. If the relays can be interfered with, it will irrevocably alter the nature of galactic conflict. A distant threat to a part of the galaxy that's never welcomed us isn't worth the risk."

"But what if they're right, Gerrel?" said Koris bitterly. "You're so focused on war with the geth that you refuse to see other options. Suppose we take back Rannoch. We'll lose people in that fight, and it will be decades before we can truly live on the homeworld. You saw those vids like the rest of us did. If that comes calling for us, we won't be any match for it."

"You're a coward and an apologist, Koris. You're jumping at shadows, looking for an excuse to crawl away with your tail between your legs."

"Enough!" said Raan, with enough steel in her voice to silence the room. She stood and faced them. "We will consider your proposal, although we cannot promise a quick answer with the situation as it is. The _Normandy_ may remain with the Fleet while we come to a decision."

Shepard felt her lips tighten into a thin line, and was glad that she was wearing a helmet. "Thank you, Admirals."

"Dismissed."

* * *

"Shepard, Garrus. I'm so glad to see you!" Tali's voice was tired, but warm. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

They'd finally made it to Tali's private quarters to talk. That in and of itself was a surprise - space was at a premium on the Migrant Fleet. The room was perhaps a quarter of the size of Shepard's cabin. One side held a table folded out from the wall and littered with small bits of machinery. The other wall held the outline of a fold-out bunk. The sparse, utilitarian nature of the space was softened by bright colors and soft fabrics - a green and yellow scarf draped over the table under the parts, a coppery-toned wall hanging with a look of age placed over it. The room was tiny and cramped, but the fact that Tali had it all to herself spoke volumes about her current social status. It was a sharp contrast from the last time Tali had returned to the Fleet.

Still, Shepard felt her face stretch into a relieved smile as she returned Tali's embrace. "It's good to see you too, Tali."

Garrus had propped himself up against a bulkhead. "How's life back in the Fleet treating you, Tali? Nice and quiet? I bet that shotgun's starting to rust." Shepard could tell by his voice that he was wearing his most obnoxious grin.

Tali sniffed and drew herself up. "I save the shotgun for smart-mouthed turian bosh'tets with poorly developed survival instincts." For a moment, the bravado held, and then her shoulders slumped and she glanced away. "But, no. It hasn't been. Nice and quiet, I mean."

Are you all right?"asked Shepard.

"We were starting to get worried," added Garrus, his voice serious now.

Tali stepped back and clasped her hands together, a nervous gesture she'd had as long as Shepard had known her.

"It's been difficult. Things have become complicated."

She and Garrus exchanged a quick glance over Tali's head. "What's going on?" she asked.

"When I came back to the fleet, I turned those files over to the Admiralty Board," Tali said. "I know they saw them. They brought me in afterwards to answer questions on the geth and the Reapers."

"What kind of questions?"

"They wanted to know about the geth that sided with Sovereign. The heretics. A schism in the geth consensus is a new development, something no one thought could happen. They wanted to know everything we learned about the geth."

"So they're not as clueless as they're making themselves out to be, then," said Garrus.

Tali shook her head. "I think they take the Reapers seriously because the geth took them seriously. That's the threat they see – that the geth will ally themselves with the Reapers again."

"Xen said the files disappeared," said Garrus. His head was cocked to the side in the way he had when he was chasing an idea.

Tali glanced away, her shoulders curling in on themselves. "I don't think it's coincidence." On the next sentence, her voice hitched a little, quietly. "The Board needs to select a new Admiral to take my father's place. My name has come up."

Shepard felt a brief, helpless stab of sympathy. "I'm sorry, Tali."

Tali came back to herself with a quick shake of her head. "Don't be. There was nothing you could have done." Some of the sorrow lingered in her voice, but the words were brisk and clear.

"You think someone was trying to discredit you by erasing the files?" asked Garrus after a minute.

Tali took a deep breath and straightened back up to look at them. "I'd never be considered for a Board position under other circumstances. I'm far too young. And even if I had the experience, the trial and the fact that I'm crew on the _Normandy_, not a Fleet ship, would normally rule me out. But they need a full Board before a decision can be reached on war with the geth, and I have experience with the geth and the Reapers that no one else in the Fleet does. If I am selected, it will not be a popular decision." She tilted her head up and to the side a little, voice turning acerbic. "I think the Admirals are trying to feel me out, to see whether I can be persuaded to take one side or another."

"Which side would you take?" asked Shepard curiously.

"I've seen what you've seen, Shepard. This war is a stupid idea. The geth aren't the real enemy. We shouldn't be fighting them."

"Huh. Never thought I'd hear you say that," said Garrus.

"Things have changed." She paused, and Shepard got the feeling she was gauging them. "What you said to the Board. Is the Council really trying to sabotage a relay?"

"That's the idea."

Tali shifted her weight uneasily from side-to-side. "I know our options are limited, but such a drastic measure…"

"We can't fight off a whole fleet like Sovereign," said Garrus, his voice tired. "We don't have the time or the resources. Believe me, I know. Maybe if we'd started preparing for this three years ago, we'd have a shot. But now…" He shook his head. "Now we need something up our sleeve. Something that will change the game. If we can wipe out their initial push, we might stand a chance."

"I understand. I still don't like it."

There was a heavy pause before Shepard spoke again. "Why choose now to go to war with the geth?"

Tali crossed her arms. "Officially, there's been a technical breakthrough. The geth depend on detailed LADAR scans to sense their environment. Xen's department found a way to scramble it. It would allow us to take the geth by surprise." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "But I think the real reason is that the Board wants to eliminate the geth before they can side with the Reapers again, while the Council is otherwise occupied."

Shepard grimaced. "Can't say I'm surprised. Make it a quick, devastating strike and bank on winning the war before the Council can turn around and hand out the wrist slaps."

"Makes sense," said Garrus. He tilted his head curiously, looking down at Tali. "Why the secrecy, though?" Tali crossed her arms and leaned back and he hastily raised his hands. "I know you couldn't give us information on the Admiralty's plans. But why the radio silence?"

"As a candidate for Admiral, I'm under close scrutiny. Closer even than candidates usually face, with the war and my background. And when those files disappeared…." Tali's shoulders lifted helplessly. "I didn't want to give anyone a reason to check my messages."

Shepard exchanged a puzzled glance with Garrus while Tali lifted her arm and fiddled a moment with her omni-tool. A moment later, the display was enlarged to show a list of messages. They stepped in closer to take a look.

All were marked as originating from _Unknown Sender, Unknown Extranet Domain_. The subject line of the first read:

_Creator Tali'Zorah: We wish to exchange information._

Her breath caught. "Is this what I think it is?"

Tali's voice was quiet, and very serious. "It's all encrypted, of course. But…"

"Of course." She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so stunned. The risk Tali was taking was enormous.

"How did that happen?" asked Garrus, the subtones of his voice reverberating with surprise.

"On the _Normandy_, EDI was… not what I expected," Tali admitted softly. "And neither was Legion. What it said about the war with the geth made me wonder. No one had spoken to the geth in centuries. I suppose I was curious."

"Curious, huh?" echoed Shepard softly. It made her think of Tali as she'd been when she first met her, young and eager to learn and fearless in the pursuit of knowledge.

"Well," said Garrus, "we all have our flaws." For all that the words were teasing, he said them gently.

"Some of us more than others," returned Tali, with an audible smile. For a moment, things were returned to a familiar, comfortable balance. Then, Tali straightened up and her demeanor became serious once more. She scrolled up the list of messages to the most recent.

"This one came today," she said, and looked straight at Shepard. "It's addressed to you."

_Shepard-Commander,_

_We require your assistance. The Old Machines have offered an alliance._

_Please contact secure channel ECR-548.998 within two standard days of receipt of this message to arrange a rendezvous. Creator Tali'Zorah can provide the encryption key._

* * *

They headed back to the _Normandy_ to confer, quiet and uneasy. They'd been offered temporary quarters on the _Raleel_ as a courtesy, which would have saved them the trouble of going through decontamination again, but the necessity of being suited up at all times and the uncertain security negated any potential convenience.

A hot shower eased a multitude of ills, and Shepard was glad to let the heat and white noise tamp down her growing worries over the situation for a few minutes. Garrus was already waiting on her couch when she emerged, dressed in civvies for once, the collar of his shirt a little damp with the remains of his own shower.

"Special occasion?"

"What?"

"You're all dressed down."

"Oh." He looked down at himself, and his mandibles gave a twitch. "Place like that kind of reminds you how nice it is not to have to wear a hardsuit."

She grimaced. "Know what you mean." The cramped spaces and painstaking sterilization procedures on the quarian ships were stifling. Once again, she wondered what it must have been like for Tali to grow up like that.

She leaned back with a sigh and changed the topic. "Let's start from the beginning. What did you get out of there?"

Garrus gave a thoughtful hum and began to tick off points on his fingers. "Hard to tell with quarians, but the Board is nervous. I don't think they're as eager to engage the geth as they seem - somebody jumped the gun by ordering the Fleet out here and now they're trying to save face by bluffing. It's clear where Gerrel and Koris stand, but Raan and Xen are keeping their own counsel. Neither of them took their eyes off the other two."

"What did you make of Xen? Last time we were here, she couldn't have cared less about the charges against Tali."

"Think Tali's right – they were trying to get a rise out of her, maybe get a feel for which way she'd jump. Either that, or Xen's just trying to stir the pot and see what comes to the surface."

Shepard scowled. "Worse than the damned Council."

Garrus snorted half a laugh, and she elbowed him. "Go ahead, laugh it up, smart-ass. They're your problem too, now."

The moment of levity did her good though, broke the frustration that had been building up in her, leaving only wry sort of resignation behind. After a moment, she sighed and turned to look at him. "What do you think? What are the odds they're going to help us out and come up with a relay booby trap they'd be willing to share?"

He returned her gaze evenly, his voice calm and light. "Not a chance."

"I was afraid of that."

"Thing is, they're not wrong," he said, his voice turning serious. "A device that can interfere with relay operation is a game-changer." He shook his head. "It's sound tactics. Maybe the _only_ viable tactic for this situation. But in any other circumstances…"

Shepard let out a breath. "Yeah. I hear you. It might be the nuclear arms race all over again." She shot him a glance. "Did you guys have one of those?"

"Think everybody had one of those." His mandibles were pulled tightly in against his face, in the way that meant tension or discomfort.

She hesitated a second. "You ever think this might not be on the up-and-up?"

He considered that in silence before letting a slow hiss out through his teeth. "Dangerous question, Shepard," he said quietly.

"It's a drastic step. It seems like it should have spent more time in committee."

They were both quiet a moment, and then Garrus made a frustrated subtonal rumble. "Doesn't matter. It's still the best shot we have."

"Yeah. No argument there. We need to get the Board to reconsider." She frowned. "But with things as they are, I don't think we have the leverage. Maybe we could get the Council to offer them privileges of some kind. But if they're counting on the Council being occupied with the invasion..."

"Council space privileges aren't going to mean squat to them," finished Garrus. "They're focused on Rannoch. They're just going to brush anything we say off as long as the geth are between them and the homeworld."

Her lips tightened. "And that's a whole other mess," she said grimly. "Might not just be geth out there if that message from Legion is anything to go by."

"You think there's an actual Reaper presence here? Or have they just made contact with the geth network?"

"I think if there were an actual Reaper in the system, we'd know it by now," she replied grimly.

He grimaced. "Fair enough. Though I can't say I like the idea of the Reapers having access to geth networks much either."

"We know the geth can be hacked. That virus the heretics wrote," she said slowly, thinking, and then shook her head. "Probably not. Why would they need to be subtle here?"

Garrus smiled, without much real humor. "At least they're willing to talk. That puts them one step ahead of the Admiralty Board."

She ran a hand through her hair. "We're going to have to talk to them. Any information on the Reapers has to take precedence."

Garrus was quiet a moment, watching her inscrutably. Then, his mandibles worked up and down once. "No. You're going to have to talk to them. The geth are interested in you specifically."

Shepard blinked, having come to the same conclusion, but startled that Garrus was the one to voice it first.

"And someone's going to need to stay here and keep pressure on the Board," she finished.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Garrus' eyes were wide and startled, and she thought her expression was probably much the same. She felt unbalanced, as if she were picking her way across unsteady ground.

At last, she gave him a crooked smile. "Part of the job, Vakarian."

With a sigh, he leaned back against the couch. "I know," he groused. "Still don't like it. What do the geth want to rendezvous for? Why not talk over the comms if they've got a secure channel set up?"

"Good question," she said slowly. "It's not as if they get anything out of a face-to-face meeting."

"Could be a trap."

"Could be." She frowned, and shook her head. "But why bother? What does it gain them? They've got the quarian armada sitting right in front of them. Why waste time and resources on taking me out?"

"Harbinger thought you were worth taking out."

"Maybe. But nobody else was doing anything about the Reapers then. I could die tomorrow, and the Hierarchy and the Alliance would still be preparing for war."

There was a beat of quiet, and then Garrus said, very dryly, "Please. Don't."

The fact of her death still caught her unawares sometimes. Wordlessly, she sought out his hand and clasped it tight, a silent apology.

She sighed after a moment. "I don't like it either. It's a risk. And if the Fleet catches on to communications between us and the geth, it's going to turn ugly fast. But we can't ignore it if the Reapers are involved."

"I know," said Garrus. He paused a moment, thinking. "Take EDI with you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Thought her new body creeped you out."

He shrugged. "It does a little. It's one thing to know there's an AI on the ship. It's another to meet it in the hallway on your way to the mess. But she's an ally. And maybe an AI can pick up something about the situation with the geth that we'd miss."

"It's a good thought," she said. "You take some backup too. Another set of eyes at least."

"Liara, maybe."

"Good choice." She sent him a thin edge of a grin. "If you want a challenge, take Javik too. See how well he'll take orders somewhere he can't do any real damage. Maybe if we're lucky he'll shock the Board into listening."

Garrus snorted. "I'll think about it." He paused, measuring her. "If we're playing it that way, you should think about taking Williams."

Shepard sat back, startled for the second time in the conversation. "What brought that on?"

"She wants to trust you. But I don't think she's going to be able to do it unless you prove you trust her first."

She let out a quiet breath. "Take a big risk and bring her in on it, huh?" She took a long look at Garrus, suddenly seeing him in a new light. They'd discussed missions and tactics many times before, but never personnel decisions. Never leadership decisions. It set her to thinking about that dossier again, and the words, "leadership potential overshadowed by Shepard." And it set her to thinking about Omega.

"All right," she said. "I'll think about it."

.

.

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_AN: Thanks to Cadmos and servantofclio for beta-reading._


End file.
